


Renegade

by kkscatnip (autohaptic)



Category: Alphas, Original Work
Genre: Age Difference, Bad Decisions, Bad Sex, Bisexual Character of Color, Bisexual Female Character, Bisexual Male Character, Bisexuality, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Dom/sub Undertones, Emotional Baggage, Female Character of Color, Getting Together, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Light Masochism, Male Character of Color, Minor Character Death, Multi, Murder, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Porn With Plot, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Trans Male Character, Trickster Mode, Unreliable Narrator, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Urban Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-05
Updated: 2013-02-05
Packaged: 2017-11-28 07:43:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 34,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/671968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autohaptic/pseuds/kkscatnip
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With his heart and soul, Elias loathes the pedophiles that he and his associates Will and Anth hunt down, but the one thing he's sworn time and time again to never do is to kill them. Unwittingly he calls upon a shifting-gendered <i>whatever</i> who says that they're a god, or maybe just the devil. Reynard isn't that bad, except for the parts where he is. A deal with the devil isn't something one enters into unthinkingly, but Reynard doesn't exactly give Elias a chance to think about it, and Elias isn't about to say no with Will and Anth's lives on the line. (Set in a universe not very far off from canon Alphas.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Renegade

**Author's Note:**

> This story wouldn't be what it is (or finished at all) without riversburn's help! Thank you to Kate and she who will remain nameless for beta help, as well. Next time I say "No more than 20k" you can go ahead and start laughing at me out of hand.

I cursed as I propelled myself backwards off the sheet metal wall--it was slicker than I'd thought it would be--and landed, rolling automatically on my right shoulder to break the fall and propel myself into a full-out run. This felon was doing his best to lay waste to my perfect capture record and I wasn't going to just leave him to level it.

Those goddamn fiery red-orange eyes glowed in the darkness across the parking lot, just out of the circle of the streetlights. His deranged laugh seemed to bounce off the walls of the low buildings, and it nearly made me burst out into not-quite-sane laughter too. The fucker had been leading me on a mad chase through the city, rebounding off walls, flipping down stair wells, running along the tops of rails, and we weren't anywhere close to done yet.

Henry Ferdinand, aka the fucker, was on the FBI's ten most wanted list for molesting young boys and subsequently killing them in addition to creating and distributing kiddie porn and a bunch of minor charges. What the most wanted list didn't mention were his fox mods--long furry, black ears tipped with white and a bushy, jet-black tail--with skin dark as fresh asphalt and eyes like red-hot coals. In spite of the mods, the face was right and I knew well how much advanced modification surgeries could alter appearances in the three and a half years since the last positive ID on him.

None of the information had said that he had flair, but whatever, details on the most wanted pages were rarely complete and I was having _fun_ chasing him, pedophile or not. Breath caught, I tore across the parking lot, and the glowy-eyed son of a bitch yipped and took off, darting to the right. 

The streets were crowded, but that didn't matter to me and probably not to Ferdinand either. My flair, my power, my _art_ was hyperkenesis: movement. My body was my tool and I could use it with a precision that either amazed or scared the shit out of most people.

Seeing Ferdinand abuse his ability irked me, though. He jumped from a light post to a wall, then vaulted up to grab the second-floor cast iron railing and pulled himself up. With ease he ran along it, but I followed the bastard just as easily, jumping from the larger rail to the smaller ones outside windows to gain a couple seconds on him. 

Not even looking back--he could probably hear me behind him, though his moves were strangely quiet--he jumped and grabbed one of the third floor cast-iron window balconies from beneath, pulled himself up, and then did it again, and again. I followed seamlessly, my movements flowing without conscious thought. After that there was only the roof left to gain, and we did that with the help of a jut in the building itself. 

He stopped on the far side of the roof, panting, and simply looked at me, and I found myself slowing and stopping less than ten feet away from him. I realized that I had no fucking clue where in Marlboro we were, but this chase qualified as the most exhilarating one I'd ever fucking had. 

There's no way in hell I could ever explain it, but to finally be matched against someone of equal ability felt _good_ in a way chases normally didn't. Maybe satisfying was a better word? Even if this guy was clearly being a complete prick, letting me rest just so I could chase him longer. I mean, I was going to win in the end, so what did I care? 

Seeing him full-on in the light was so fucking weird: bushy fox tail and those ears, even though he was jet black all over. His face didn't look quite right, for some reason. But then the fucker laughed, and his face... it just changed, and I realized he was a morpher in addition to being a hyperkinetic. 

But it wasn't possible; the brain could do _one_ thing extra and that was it. "What the fuck?" I said, almost involuntarily. One, that was it, that was all you got. Your one talent, one flair. One curse, for some. 

He, if he even was Ferdinand, laughed even more. "Surprised?" He sounded smug, smooth as a baby's butt, despite the breathless quality to his voice. Not a lisp, just breathless. Made sense, given the two miles we had to have covered in the last half hour.

Part of me thought that if this motherfucker wasn't Ferdinand, then giving up might be a categorically good idea. I'd already lost Anth and Will, my bounty hunting partners, but Anth was a navigator so I knew they'd find me sooner or later, no matter what. But was I really going to give up the first fucking chase that made me feel alive just because the guy might not be a big bounty? Nothing, not a goddamn thing, had ever made me feel this connected to the world. 

There was that decision made, then, but I was going to push myself too hard if we didn't stay here for a least a couple more minutes. How to draw it out, though? What did this comebucket want to hear? "Who the fuck are you?" 

"Who do you _think_ I am, Elias?" the guy purred, he fucking _purred_ like he was trying to talk sexy to me. Not that I didn't go for guys--I hadn't been picky, if you know what I mean, back then--but it was just the presumption that bothered me. He kept talking, though, after he was done looking me up and down like a piece of meat. "Mars? Ares?"

Like he was some kind of fucking _god_? Knowing my name meant fuck-all; I wasn't exactly a nobody in the bounty hunter world. I didn't believe in a higher power, though I guessed if there was one they would be about a big of an asshole as this guy seemed to be. 

But I remembered suddenly, back in the cheap hotel room with Will and Anth, saying that I wouldn't care if Ferdinand were the Devil himself, as long as he showed up. I'd been that fucking bored and Henry Ferdinand definitely was here in Medford even if the only evidence we had beyond rumors from vigilante groups were was a series of proxies that Will insisted was Ferdinand's. I didn't know enough about that shit to be as sure as he was, but I trusted--

"Or maybe the Morrigan?" the guy continued, lips curling into another of those smirks that made me want to punch him in the face.

Wait, weren't the Morrigan female?

"Yes, I can appear female as well, if that's your preference." He demonstrated: his facial features smoothed into more feminine shapes as the shirt grew tighter across the chest, looser at the shoulders, and the jeans grew tighter at the hips and thighs. "Would you have me be Sekhmet? Kathyayini? Pele?" The laugh was sultry this time, and I had the feeling that there was a bush somewhere and we were beating all around it.

Okay, if I'd summoned the Devil, or whatever fucking deity this lunatic wanted to claim to be... it didn't make any kind of sense, but then those glowy eyes flared, going vivid yellow-orange instead of red-orange for a moment, and I realized that I was wasting my goddamn time. I'd figure out who this asshole was when I didn't have anywhere left to go, which sure as shit wasn't right now. 

I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, and my heart rate sped slightly; I found myself smiling without meaning to. The kind of smile that Anth always called a battle grin. "So what _do_ you want me to call you?"

The guy--or gal, now, I guess--laughed, even as she shifted her own weight in response to me. Not sultry, but a true laugh, deeply amused, and at my fucking expense. "Just call me Reynard. Do you want me like this?" She ran her fingers over her breasts, canting her hips. 

I didn't give a shit and couldn't fathom why I was even being given the choice; as soon as I got my hands on her, she was going to be in cuffs, bounty or no. "Whatever."

With a smile that showed her teeth, canines that made me recoil once more at the idea of kissing her, the fucker took a running jump over to the next building. 

Chasing Reynard around was shit-ton of fun so far, sexual innuendo aside; there wasn't any reason to not follow her.

± ± ±

I caught her on nothing but pure cussedness, dogging her the entire way and coming up with a few shortcuts she didn't see to catch up when I got too far behind.

But she misjudged a overhang—decoration, not function, was the purpose of this one--and when she jumped up and grabbed the edge, the whole thing caved and she went down with it. She rolled, of course, but I was close enough that the mistake afforded me the ability to catch her by the arm. 

She aimed a kick at my head, but I saw it coming from the way she shifted her weight. I dodged like the badass I am, and then we grappled. 

"Afraid you're gonna lose?" I asked through clenched teeth, slowly, slowly forcing her arms back. If Reynard was a god--which was debatable as fuck, in my book, impossible powers or not--then the human form obviously had limits since she didn't just kick my ass then and there. 

She didn't reply, though, just grinning steadily, her eyes glowing yellow with the effort, or maybe with emotion. I was getting the hang of what got her going, and wasn't _that_ a fun idea? 

Even so, I got her on the ground in less than two minutes, thanks to her breaking a hold and unintentionally giving me an opening to sweep her feet out from under her and pin her before she could get up. She tried to roll, and we ended up with me above her, knee leaning on her lower back and one arm holding hers twisted up her back, the other grasping her tail to keep her from shoving it in my face again. 

Still, though, she was quiet, only panting for breath and squirming a bit. Was she trying to do something? The air smelled vaguely of smoke; did the smell come from her, or was some fucker burning leaves? I pressed harder on her back with my knee, pinning her more thoroughly and not giving a shit if she was going to have trouble breathing. Gods didn't need to breathe. 

"What now?" I asked, doing a good bit of panting myself because humans _do_ need to breathe, even us talented ones. Nobody ever said this, or maybe people are so fucking lazy that they don't do enough to realize it, but cat and mouse? It's a hard fucking game to play.

She looked over her shoulder; I couldn't see her eyes, but I could see the glow of them on her cheek and hair, and those long fox ears that leaned forward like she wasn't bothered and all of this being pinned bullshit was below her. "Now, you'd better get me off of the street before someone calls the police on you," she said, and laughed breathlessly.

That was a damn good point. Fuck, I wasn't _lost_ exactly, but it was a part of Cambridge that I wasn't incredibly familiar with. I knew we were barely out of Sommerville, in one of those neighborhoods that were a weird mix of nice single-family houses and shitty student apartments in the guise of flats that just happened to also be shaped like separate floors on single-family homes. We couldn't be very far from Tufts.

Yeah, I grew up in Boston and have been around the world and still think it's the most livable fucking city; it's my base of operations and I will never regret that.

I let go of her tail and quickly reached over my head and into the back of my vest to pull out three zip ties from the special pocket. "You'd better goddamn hold still, or I'll," I gasped for breath, coughed, and kept going, "I'll fucking zip tie your neck." It was always one of those effective as hell threats. 

"You're so vulgar, you know that?" Reynard gasped out, but didn't try and move, which was the best way this could end, in my book. 

She actually let me pull her other hand behind her back, cross her wrists and zip tie both of her hands together, then zip tie down the middle, then around her wrists again on top of that. No fucking way I was going to let this choad weasel get away now I'd caught her. I leaned down and said into one of those long ears: "You don't know the half of it."

Reynard snorted. "Going to let me up now? I think I'm properly restrained." 

Which probably meant she thought she could get away, but I couldn't sit here with her pinned all fucking night and not risk arrest. Cops tended to ask questions later whenever they found men doing something they thought qualified as assaulting women, in my experience, even if those women were criminals and the men were bounty hunters. Once was enough for me.

I crawled off of her and kept one hand on her arm as she got to her feet. Of course she didn't need her goddamn hands, not with the way she could move. But... I pulled out my phone, unlocked the screen, and dialed Anth's number from memory. I didn't keep numbers in my phone 'cause it was way too fucking easy for people to hack. Will had proven that to both Anth and me three years ago, when he'd shown me how much I needed a systems expert on hand on a daily basis in case the shit hit the fan. 

She answered on the second ring. "We're not far off, just stay where you are and we'll come to you."

"Thanks," I said, and sighed. 

Despite being taller than I was--most people tended to be, thank you very much, height-deficient genes--Reynard leaned against me a little and looked up to catch my gaze, her eyes once again the deep red-orange glow of hot coals rather than the bright yellow-orange of fire. "They're cute, your partners, but they don't compare to you. Is that why you haven't fucked them?"

I shook my head. This--this _fucker_ , she had yet to fail to hit my buttons in the worst goddamn way. Then again, if she was actually some kind of death or war god or some shit like that... "Anth and Will are worth a hundred of you." 

They were also ten years younger than me, which might not matter much in another ten years, but when I was thirty-one, well... it was sixteen kinds of _wrong_. I knew they both had these idealistic as fuck crushes on me. It could be adorable, when it wasn't being annoying and getting in the way of work, but it'd be a cold day in hell before I'd take advantage of them like that.

She didn't reply, like she could sense that it was a dangerous fucking topic, which was good because we were getting back into that place where I wanted to put my fist right through her shit-eating grin.

"Why did you even come?" I asked, after a little while longer. Maybe a minute, maybe five; I knew well enough that waiting fucked with time perception. "What's a _god_ ," if that was even what she was, "doing fucking around with someone like me?"

"You called me," she said, the words soft, just a little short of being coy.

That really was what had done it, then. "Are you obligated to show up every time somebody calls you?" Seemed like it could get to be annoying as hell.

Reynard smirked. "If they mean it, yes. I'm not obligated to approach the poor sods, but I'm obligated to show up and peek around."

"What if two people call you at once?" I asked, getting truly curious now. Either she was crazy and making it up as she went along or it was the honest-to-God, no-shitting-around truth. I found that both were fascinating possibilities, if in entirely different ways.

"Elias," she said, drawing out the vowels and the s. "Time isn't necessarily linear for gods, or at least not the way it is for you. This is the second time I've met you."

Oh _really_? As much as I wanted to sit here and talk about quantum physics or some bullshit like that, I wasn't quite sure I could swallow this. It explained her forwardness, though, and the teasing. "Yeah, well."

She grinned. "Believe what you want. I think your _friends_ are here." The way she said friends made my hackles rise. 

Sure enough, I turned around and there was Anth and her relentlessly cheerful, bouncing black curls and Will and his lanky, ginger adorableness. I turned to them, letting go of Reynard for a moment. "Was I hard enough to find?"

Anth just pressed her lips together and smiled. "Immensely. Where's Ferdinand?"

Oh, shit. They didn't know. "Um, about that..." I began, turning back to Reynard, but trailed off.

She was gone. I couldn't see her anywhere, didn't hear any footsteps, nothing. She'd simply vanished into thin fucking air in the ten seconds the exchange had taken. 

Fuck, I thought. Then: what the hell am I going to tell these two? I'd lied to Will and Anth before, but I was loathe to do it again. Anth hadn't gotten a look at Ferdinand's eyes, either, so there was no way she could track him. 

In for a penny, I thought, and told them the truth.

± ± ±

"Well, I'm sure nothing compares to that mystery chase with the guy--or is it a girl?--who wasn't actually Henry Ferdinand," Will said, smirking.

Two months later and the little shits were still making jokes about it. Their jests hadn't gotten any fucking funnier the farther I got from the whole thing, but I couldn't be angry at them. At myself, though? Easy as pie.

Was I a dupe? I liked to think that from the moment I picked up that baseball bat to defend myself against my cousins that I was no longer a dupe who was going to go along with every goddamn thing that happened to me, but... 

It wasn't important. "Who's next?" Ferdinand had gone to ground, and good, judging by the same clues that had led us to him in the first place. Reynard had not only thrown us off his trail, but the chase itself had somehow alerted Ferdinand that we were hot on his trail and he was just not anywhere anymore.

Anth grimaced, nose wrinkled and lip curled. "William--Sorry, Will, that's his name--Harrier-Adams. Wanted for skipping bail when he was on trial for producing child pornography, for sexual abuse of minors under ten, and a slew of other things."

Fucking kiddie diddlers. In my book it was a crying fucking shame that we couldn't just stick a grenade down every shithole pedophile's throat sans the pin and let the problem take care of itself, but catching them and turning their sorry asses in was the next best thing. 

Times like this, though, I really wished I had the guts to go that last step and actually kill someone, no matter how much I'd hate myself for it. People, if you could even fucking _call_ them that, like William Harrier-Adams or Henry Ferdinand didn't deserve to be breathing the same air as the kids whose childhoods they fucked over.

Anth kept reading from the wanted page. "Suspected to be hiding out in the Chicago area." 

"Oh," Will said, looking up from his ever-present laptop, blue eyes bright with excitement. "I can visit my dad?" He always phrased things like that, making his requests into a question like he was half afraid that I was going to shut him down. Like I could actually deny him something that would thrill him so much.

I couldn't help ruffling Will's hair, and he smiled at me, looking for all the world like a content puppy. Yeah, I grinned like a fool. Anth grinned, too. These two were mine to protect and to keep happy, and I liked seeing them look that way. "You bet your ass you can visit your dad. Do you wanna do it before or after?"

"Before." Will shook his coppery hair out of his eyes, looking back down at his computer. "Things always get so messy once the chase is on."

A-fucking-men, I thought, and turned to my own computer to figure out how much a road trip to Chicago was going to work with the current budget. Anth liked visiting Will's dad so I would only need a single room for a week or so...

± ± ±

Even with six months worth of jokes, I couldn't help turning it over in my mind, the idea that if I called Reynard, the black fox would just come. Show up in whatever form Reynard decided was best and...

And what? I thought, shaking my head at myself. This was not productive, but I had to try, even if I knew it wouldn't work because I didn't care. I didn't mean it. "Satan, get your ass up here." I held my breath, but I didn't hear anything, and in the darkness of the hotel room I didn't see any glowing coal-eyes. "Or down here. Whatever. I want to see you." 

I had to stop holding my breath for want of air before long, but I still didn't hear anything except my own breathing. No footsteps, no shift of fabric on fabric until I moved my foot under the blankets. 

"Ares?" I tried, looking at the window, at the ever-present glow of the Big Apple. New York City always made me miss Boston like fuck; it had been four months since we'd been home. 

"Mars? Morrigan?" What were the other ones that Reynard had said? I couldn't remember. 

And it probably wouldn't matter anyway, because Reynard had said that they didn't have to show themselves, right? So there was probably a god hiding in the bathroom and smirking at my ignorance, but when I got up and went to the bathroom to turn on the light--I'd unscrewed about half the bulbs to keep it from the whole Beam me up, Scotty, effect--there wasn't anyone there. 

None of the vague smoldering smell that I remembered clinging to Reynard, nothing. The rest of the room, lit by ambient light from the bathroom, was just as empty. 

Fuck, I thought. You're just batting a thousand, aren't you? 

I wiped one hand down my face and crawled back in bed, and dreamed about chasing Reynard through New York, a largely unfamiliar city, learning the curves and architecture in a completely different light. I woke up wondering exactly how much faster we would've gotten arrested here. 

Maybe it was a good thing that Reynard hadn't shown up, or at least, that was what I was going to tell myself that the dream meant. And fuck my subconscious anyway; he was a real dick.

± ± ±

Anth had lovers. Both Will and I knew she did: a woman in Los Angeles who liked to take her to drag shows, a man in Atlanta who thought that fucking picnics in the park were the height of entertainment, and a woman here in Boston who was beautiful, intelligent, successful, adored Anth with every bit of her heart, and fucked Anth's brains out every time they had a date. Or I was going on that assumption, based on Anth's mood the following day.

She was happy and that was the only fucking thing that mattered to me. 

Will liked to poke fun at her, though, especially the times that she went out with Alessandra, because those nights were always so goddamn obvious. She could fool us in other cities by saying she was going to a bar--which she did do, sometimes, for the record, though we were pretty adept at figuring out what she was doing, even if all we had sometimes were her foursquare check-ins and tweets--but the way she usually dressed up for Alessandra was the most obvious shit in the world.

I let her off early for it, sometimes, especially when there wasn't a ton of work for her to do. It was worth it just to see her all dressed up, even if thinking about her that way made me the littlest bit uncomfortable.

Anth walked out of her bedroom decked to the nines: hair perfect ringlets, smokey-eyed fuck-me makeup, delicious ale-brown skin soft as the scent of lotion that clung to her. And that dress--it wasn't one of those skintight deals, but it was short and showed off Anth's long legs, since whatever else she was, she was always going to look like a fucking warrior woman. She even posed, holding one of those expressionless model faces for a moment before she broke out into her usual grin. 

"Spending the night with your sugar momma?" Will asked, though not in a snide voice. I don't think that Will actually knew how to use any kind of snide voice, which I'd thought was equal parts adorable as fuck and dangerous as fuck. There was such a thing as too naïve.

Laughing, Anth bounced on her toes--at least she wasn't wearing heels; she was just about six feet tall already. "Alessandra says that she's got something important to tell me tonight, but I don't know if she'll want me to spend the night." Sometimes she did, but most of the time she didn't; their relationship was unfathomable to me. I never asked how the two of them met, though I really wondered sometimes given their age difference; it was the one relationship that Anth had already had when I talked her into working for me. "Have a good time," I told her. Anth just hugged me, gave me a kiss on the cheek, and left.

Will and I exchanged amused smiles and turned back to our computers once she was gone. He'd said that he'd stay late tonight and work, even though it was Friday night; normally by now he was getting ready to head home.

Sometimes I wished I were a bounty hunter in the 1990s, so I could do like they did in the old mystery thriller novels and walk around town and talk to people to collect my facts. The internet was usually the only tool I needed; people almost never went so far off the map that they didn't use the internet any more--especially sexual predators, since the serial offenders were compulsive about it--and there weren't too many resources that weren't electronic, save for in really weird cases like when new witnesses surfaced and the information wasn't there yet. 

But it was 2048, and I was stuck with what was in front of me. A half-eaten dinner of stir-fry, red bean rice cakes I'd made for Will's serious sweet tooth, and kimchi half-forgotten in favor of my main tool: two screens and the second-best system money could buy a year ago when I bought it. Will's was more current, of course, and he had four screens, but I didn't mind spending money with the kind of reactions system upgrades always brought. His expression whenever a box arrived in the mail was always pure glee, which--

"Do you ever think about it?" Will asked, a little after Anth left. "You know, the whole... boyfriend, girlfriend thing." 

It wasn't the first time Will had talked about it, though it was the first time in at least a couple years. Before, when he was a hot-shit kid that an associate recommended to me as a good guy to contract for high profile cracking, he had talked about it in the context of himself: he tried dating a girl, didn't get past the making out stage, and figured out that he was mostly gay. Or, well, the words he used were "Most women aren't appealing to me." 

Then the little shit hacked into my _life_ for fun and I hired him. After that he always said he didn't have time for casual dating.

He'd never asked me about whether I'd do it, though. I put my elbow on my computer desk, leaned my face on my hand, and looked squarely at Will. He was puppyish as ever, sitting back in his chair like that; those blue eyes shining with curiosity always made me want to reconsider my morals. That was happening more and more, of late.

The reconsidering of morals, not Will looking adorable, I mean. He always looked adorable. But I had a very important question to answer: "I spend so much goddamn time on work that I don't think it would be very fair to date someone. I'd be a real douchetaco if I did that right now."

Will's brows knitted together and he leaned forward slightly. "But Anth--"

"Has part-time relationships." I didn't have anything against it, but anything short of living with someone was a part-time relationship in my book. I lifted my head and sighed, leaning against my high-backed, cushy computer chair. Will was probably going to get the wrong fucking idea from this, but I wasn't willing to lie. "If I'm _with_ someone, I want them to be a part of my daily life." And that was in no fucking way possible right now with work being my number one priority.

Even so, something like hope bloomed on Will's face. He didn't say anything, looking down at his keyboard with an absent smile and while he twisted his chair back and forth. That was one thing about Will: little shit was always on the move. In more ways than one, apparently.

Fuck, no. I needed to shut him down, but--I didn't want to kick the puppy. "Look, I just, I'm focused as a--a dog on a bone when it comes to work right now. I don't think I have enough energy to not fuck up any relationship I get into." The last fucking thing I wanted was to fuck up my relationship with him or Anth, and that thought kept me in line when my morals failed.

A bit of the hope on Will's face went away, like someone turning down a dimmer switch, but there was still that soft smile playing on his lips and I realized his cheeks were starting to get red. Hellfire, I thought, at the same time feeling awful for doing this. 

Will looked up abruptly. "It doesn't have to be a relationship. I just want--I want..."

If he couldn't even say it, there was no way he was ready for it. 

"I want you," Will finished, then let out his breath and took two deep breaths.

Okay, so he could say it. Fuck. 

How did I even explain this shit? He probably wasn't going to hear it, no matter what I said. 

I had to try. "Will, it's not in any fucking way _healthy_ to be so--so tied up in a person that you're willing to settle for something that isn't what you really give a shit about having."

Will's brows furrowed and his eyes began to get glassy. "But, I want you, Elias, so much it hurts sometimes and I--it's like--I can't..."

Dear God, he was young, wasn't he? Seeing the tears happening in slow motion made my chest tight. Just a reminder, in case I'd somehow managed to magically forget that very important tidbit in favor of what my cock thought was a good idea. 

But what did I say to that? No way in hell did I want to break his heart, and I detested lying. "I want you too." As soon as the words were out I knew they were a horrible fucking idea, whether or not they were the truth. "It's just not _realistic_." 

_Also, I'm ten years older than you and your fucking_ boss _. Why doesn't that bother you?_ A part of me chimed in, but I kept my stupid-ass mouth from saying it.

"What's realistic?" he asked. His voice was thick, his eyes still glassy, but his cheeks were dry. He waved his hand at the set-up around us, and then at his main screen in particular. "Is _this_ realistic? Is it realistic to spend a couple months in some random city hoping we can hunt down some criminal? Is it _realistic_ that you can, can run along the top of an iron fence, and Anth can find anyone after she's met them once?" 

Point, I thought, but knew it wasn't the heart of it. The heart was that I had authority over them, with age and with our working relationship--though after three years it was more of a three-way partnership than anything, the little shits were still on my payroll technically--and, and several other things I couldn't think of right now. _That_ was what was really wrong. "I'm your _boss_ ," I said, my voice going soft as I clenched my hands together.

Will made a frustrated noise and rubbed his hands over his face. "If that's the problem, then fuck that hierarchy! Make us partners, _business_ partners, and you won't be our boss anymore. We run things just as much as you do, anyway, so why not?" 

"I make the decisions," I said, trying not to grind my teeth. "Even if you run other things, cut your own paychecks, _I_ decide who we go after when, what pay periods are, when we go. All of that's mine to decide, and I'm _not_ willing to give that up." 

"Then _change_ ," Will growled. "You're not a robot; you can adapt. Isn't that what you're always telling me? Adapt, Will, adapt to the circumstances! Well, _you_ adapt, Elias. It's absurd, absolutely _absurd_ , that you do things like this."

He was yelling by the end of it, hands fisted. My mind raced, formulating a response about ages and maturity levels, but I didn't get to voice it; the front door slammed and Anth strode into the living room. Her steps were precise, quick, and angry, but her face was streaked with tears, her careful make-up smeared.

"Oh shit," Will breathed, naked concern on his face. He emerged--ran, really--from behind his desk and wrapped both arms around Anth, one hand going up to cup the back of her head. He was of a height with her, both of them almost a head taller than I was. Stupid fucking Korean genes.

I came around to the front of my desk, too, after a few moments of watching Anth hold her head up and cry and Will murmur in her ear so softly that I couldn't even hear the words. Carefully, I wrapped my arm around Anth from the side, resting my cheek on her shoulder. Will stopped murmuring.

Anth didn't say anything, laying her forehead against Will's and breathing shaky breaths. Not exactly crying, but trembling. "She broke up with me," Anth whispered, after a minute or two. My hand stilled on her back and I raised my head. The _fuck_? Anth and Alessandra had been together for five years, since Anth was sixteen. (Not the time to think about Anth and the way she went for older people, I thought.)

Will bit his lip, like he wanted to say something, and his gaze flickered to me and then back to her. Anth gave a single short shake of her head. 

It was one of those moments when I had it shoved in my face that Will and Anth shared a fuck of a lot more on a personal level than I shared with either of them. One of those times when I was a third wheel, because I'd pushed it so hard into their heads that I wasn't available. Knowing well enough how to take a clue, I pulled away, but Will raised his head and caught my sleeve without looking away from Anth. 

"Elias," Will said, shaping his words slowly and carefully, "has informed me that he wants me, too. So. If--"

"Too soon," Anth said, tired, one hand on Will's wrist to pull it away from my sleeve before she led him into her room. She only used it a couple days a week, but once upon a time she had lived here full time. Will never had, though. Will had spent the night a few times, but never Anth's room, never....

Well, fuck, I thought. I guess it was food, a whole goddamn seven-course meal, for me to think on, if nothing else.

± ± ±

This time when I called Reynard, I fucking well meant it. I couldn't sit and think about things; it just didn't work for me. I should've realized it a while ago but I kept trying to do it because Will and Anth were such thinkers but--no, I just needed to get out and wear myself out and do something to feel like I was part of something. To feel like I wasn't left out.

The air in the alley next to the apartment building happened to be cold as fuck, but it helped sharpen my mind. Maybe I should've worn gloves. Or an overcoat, but that would've made it difficult to move and chasing Reynard would keep me warm anyway.

Walking back to the brick dead-end, I did it: "Real good fucking job Lucifer's not here right now, because if he were, I'd kick that fucker's ass up one side of the street and down the other." I paused. "Then again, I feel like kicking somebody's ass. C'mon, Reynard, don't tell me you're _afraid_."

A familiar laugh came from above me, two stories up at the top of a wall between five-story buildings. The asshole was a guy again, a bit shorter than he'd been last time but heavier built, still with skin like a pitch black basement and those freaky glowing eyes that lit the rest of his face up. And the absurdly long ears and bushy tail that probably should've made me think twice but didn't. I'd seen mods like that before, after all. Well, not ones so extreme, but not far off from them either.

"Can't see anything I should be afraid of down there." He smiled broadly.

I wagered his canines were the same fucking same size as before, and didn't let it bother me. Instead I rebounded from the side of the building to the wall, fingers scrambling against cold, rough brick as it took a few jumps to get all the way up, until my fingers grasped the ledge and I pulled myself up to stand over the--whatever he was. I didn't like using the word _god_ to describe him. 

God, or gods, or whatever, didn't exist. There needed to be some other word for asshats with powers beyond the norm who liked to fuck with people. Mythological figures.

Reynard raised one eyebrow and looked up at me with open interest. "Are you hyperkinetic, or do you just enjoy free running?"

"Parkour," I corrected. Free running was about going wherever the hell you wanted, usually places other people couldn't go, with plenty of showmanship, flips and wasted energy and all; parkour was about getting from point A to point B as efficiently as possible and not letting obstacles like six-story buildings or sheer drops get in your way. Free running was for needy teenage boys who liked attention a little too fucking much, in my opinion. "And hyperkinetic." Not that you had to be, to do parkour, but didn't the fucker already--no, wait, he had said that my second time meeting him was his first time, hadn't he? She, at the time.

There was no mention of a lack of linear time, though, only an appraising gaze. "Think you can catch me?" His voice was teasing, that smile mocking, daring me to prove myself.

Oh hell yes, this was going to be exactly what I needed. "I already did once, shithead." 

He just winked and vaulted off the wall, opposite the direction he'd been facing. I waited to see which way the fucker turned at the street and then took off; he looked like he was headed for another dead end in a block and a half and the shortest distance between two points was always a straight line. Supposing that the gravel on top of the next building over wasn't covered in ice or anything, in which case I was pretty fucking sure that Reynard would slow down enough that I could catch up. 

What was the fun of provoking a chase if your pursuer lost track of you?

± ± ±

I hadn't thought about the fact that it was three in the shitting morning in Boston in _November_ when I'd decided I wanted Reynard through the city a second time, but I was sure as hell thinking about it now. It was windy, there was ice on half the things that I wanted to use--I'd only just barely saved myself from a fucking fifty-foot drop off stairwell when the rail that I tried to run down was covered in ice four steps in--and unlike Reynard, it didn't melt at my touch. Not to mention it felt like getting stabbed in the chest to breathe in such cold air when my body was so heated up.

This time I was the one who stopped, just plain giving the fuck up when we were in an alley that broke the constant, frigid wind and wrapping my arms around myself. Sweating in twenty degree weather wasn't a good idea, especially in nothing but a long-sleeved shirt, even if it was thick and normally pretty warm. The teeth-chattering set in almost as soon as I stopped moving. 

"Not very bright, are you?" Reynard said, perched on the top of a dumpster, squatting, one hand holding the edge as he used his tail to balance himself. I really can't imagine what else made him hold it so still with the way it was nearly always moving.

Normally a lot smarter than this, I thought. But I'd been way too goddamn upset, letting my emotions rule me, like a dumbfuck. "S-s-sorry to d-disap-ppoint." Sarcasm didn't have quite the same ring when my chattering teeth made me stutter the words out.

The fucker jumped down off the dumpster and walked over; he stood almost the same exact height as me half-hunched over from shivering. Those glowing eyes were actually _less_ creepy incredibly close up than I'd have thought they'd be; they were still human-shaped and had the same components as human eyes. Or, given his form, fox eyes. "Are you going to tell me where your house is, or shall I have the pleasure of picking your pocket to find out?"

Didn't he just fucking _know_? "S-some god-d you are."

It was obviously an invitation for him; Reynard reached around, but I leaned back heavily against the wall. "Ad-dress isn't th-there." Or at least not the place where I actually lived; the address on my license was still my parents' summer house in Cape Cod. 

The safest method was to use a dummy address, when you chased criminals, and my parents had no fucking idea where I was. Keeping it that way was a priority and there was no way in fuck I was going to go back there. "It's..." I told him the address, and hoped to whatever higher power might be out there (it sure as shit wasn't him) that Anth and Will would be asleep or busy or gone back to their respective apartments. Anything.

And I did not, not, not think about what _busy_ might entail. Will had, after all, specified _most_ women didn't do it for him. Of course Anth would be one of those women who was the exception. Of course he--

"I can make sure they're asleep," he said, softly, and I wondered if it was a kindness or a cruelty now that this asshole was proposing it. Also, mind-reading? Creepy as fuck. Or maybe I was just predictable.

But I wasn't brave or stupid enough to comment on it right now. I just nodded jerkily instead, and Reynard cupped one hand around the back of my arm. His voice was all amusement when he added, "Don't blink or you'll miss it."

Fucking joke: I didn't blink and I still missed it. One second in the alley, one nanosecond later we were in my room. I went right over to the space heater by my bed, turned that fucker on, and knelt in front of it while I held my hands over it. For some reason, I expected Reynard to be gone by the time I looked up from the heater--Wasn't that what he did? Disappeared just as soon as I took my attention off of him?--but there he was, standing with his back to the window and that insane bushy tail twitching back and forth like a cat's.

And the eyes. Couldn't forget the eyes. 

"You don't have to thank me," he said, and pretended to pick a piece of lint off of his impossibly black shirt. "I'll just extract the price on our next visit." 

"Thank you," I said, a bit sheepish at having forgotten basic courtesy. I knew better than that; even if I didn't really believe that this fucker deserved praise, he had done a very important favor for me in not letting me die the way I deserved for being a damn fool. 

Reynard made the most elaborate bow I'd ever seen, and I couldn't help wondering if people actually bowed like that at some point or if he just made it up on the spot like he seemed to with everything else. "Like I said, I'll extract the price on our next visit, which I assume has already happened for you." He smiled, and there were those fucking canines again. 

I guess the way I pretty actively summoned the bastard had made that pretty obvious, hadn't it? "Um, yeah." I rubbed my hands together, feeling the blood returning to my fingers, more grateful than I could say that I wasn't going to end up frostbitten or some other bullshit, self-inflected stupidity like that.

He squatted next to me, holding his hands over the heat too. His lips looked very full in the light from his eyes and the heater, and it was easier to find him attractive when he wasn't being presumptive or pushy or showing his teeth. "Did I get my money's worth?"

There was no way I could help laughing. "I don't know what you think would constitute your money's worth, since you probably don't have any use for cash, but..." I trailed off, not even sure where I was going. His eyes were a little hypnotizing when I could watch the colors shift like this, like they really were coals.

"Suppose I'll have to judge for myself when it happens, then," he said with a small smile.

As soon as the smile faded, I leaned in and kissed him. He wasn't strangely hot or strangely cold; he felt just like how I remembered it felt to kiss another person even if I hadn't done that for a damn long time. His lips were the same as the last person I'd kissed, though: soft and warm and pliant. And his lips moving against mine felt just the same as anyone else doing it, though I pulled back before either of us could get our tongues in on the action. Not that he had attempted it yet, it was just... I didn't even know, but I needed a breath, a pause, before we went there.

The fucker just smiled once more without teeth, like he'd figured out if he did it that way he looked like sex on a stick. The face he was wearing today was beautiful, angular but soft at the same time, with classic androgynous beauty; he didn't appear to be any older than Will. A bit younger, actually, though that didn't bother me for some reason. "Want to try that again?" 

Fuck yes, I wanted to try that again. I was surer of myself this time, knowing he felt normal to kiss and knowing I wasn't the most awful kisser after a couple years--I'd stopped keeping track of the exact date--since my last make-out session. He tilted his head and opened his mouth and I must say, he wasn't passive, but he didn't take any initiative either. 

"I'd have thought you'd be a little more aggressive," I murmured against his lips, nuzzling his face. No matter how close I got to his eyes, they didn't give off any heat, even if they glowed through his dark eyelids when I pressed closed-mouth kisses there. He was the most peculiar devil, war god, whatever, that I'd met, not that I'd met any others, it was just that they had reputations, mythologically speaking, and he wasn't living up to it. 

Reynard just cupped one hand around the back of my head and drew me in for another kiss, like he was telling me to stop fucking trying to talk. Or think. 

Maybe he was.

I kissed back, humming happily into the contact, leaning my whole body toward him like moth to a flame. His hands were the same size as mine but deft, flighty, his fingers sliding all over my face, my arms, the planes of my chest, and all the while my heartbeat and breathing grew shorter, faster. By the time I pulled away from the kiss I was completely fucking breathless and needed to open my eyes and take deep breaths and just look at him for a few moments.

Was I really doing this?

His fingers traced from the side of my knee up the inside of my thigh, my cock jumped, and I thought, yes, I was really doing this and damn the consequences. I needed to reconnect with another person--god, whatever--like this and Reynard was showing every sign of being someone I'd enjoy fooling around with. 

No, wait. No. Or maybe yes? Was that true? I hadn't intended to do one night stands anymore. But Reynard was so... Reynard. Fuck. I'd figure it out later; my cock was throbbing and Reynard looked so, so appealing.

I toed off my shoes and crawled backwards onto my bed, pulling the blankets back and crawling under them without blinking or looking away from Reynard. He watched me for a moment, and then followed, his expression passive but hungry. Look, I know that makes no fucking sense but that was the way the little shit looked, like he was going to go along with whatever I wanted but he was going to do it because he wanted to, not because I wanted him to.

It was fine by me. I liked the weight of him on top of me, and the heat of us under the blankets with all our clothes on was nicer than it had any right to be, given who he was, but I wasn't about to complain. Silent, I reached up and stroked from base to tip on those ridiculous fox ears, drawing a gasp from him before he rolled his hips against mine and pulled a surprised moan out of me. 

I turned my face away, biting my lip. It had been a _very_ long time since I'd been with anyone. Casual sex didn't appeal anymore. But...

"Come on, you can do better than that," he growled, not scary but playful, like it was a fucking game, and pulled my sweater down and licked up the line of my neck. 

"Anth--" I began, biting my lip again as that fucker started to rock back and forth like he knew having his cock pressed against mine through all of our clothes was damn near my favorite type of sex. 

Maybe he did, or maybe it was just the most convenient thing right now. The heat of his cock started to come through, despite the clothes, and when he sucked my neck and ground down against me I couldn't help another moan. I bit my lip and squeezed my eyes shut, thinking, Quiet, quiet, quiet; don't let them hear you.

Reynard puffed out a laugh against my neck, and fuck if that didn't make me shudder. In a good way. He nipped my neck once more, like it was for good goddamn measure, and said, "Put 'em to sleep, remember?"

Right. Right. Anth and Will were asleep. Right. 

"Be as loud as you want," he whispered in my ear, bit it, and then pressed his lips against mine. 

Fuck it, if I was going to do this, I might as well do it right. I cupped his ass, a little flat though I wasn't the type to mind, and pulled his hips down against mine, arching up against him, my head falling back, breaking the kiss while I groaned at the contact. 

"Gorgeous," he said, and wriggled, making me close my eyes for a moment. 

I'd like to say that I knew exactly what I was doing, that I could recount every fucking moment in intense detail, but I got turned around somewhere with in the weight of him above me, the pressure, the friction, the heat; I'd forgotten, somehow _forgotten_ about the heat. How warm it was to have sex with someone else, plus hearing Reynard's reactions--he wasn't a damn bit quieter than me--was just... 

I did, I got lost. Happily. Down the rabbit hole, guest at the Mad Hatter's party, and fucking on the table, not giving a damn for a precious while about anything except the warmth and pressure and pleasure of another body against mine. 

How long it lasted, I couldn't have said if my life depended on it. Measurements of time are so subjective, without clocks, and I'd forgotten to look at what time we started. If I had to guess, I'd say there was twenty minutes of it. Twenty minutes of kisses and grinding and increasingly rough nipple play and whispers, dirty talk, with Reynard's body all lithe and powerful against mine. But it could've been thirty minutes, easy, or an hour. Time is relative. And Reynard wasn't limited to linear time. 

Sex--it _was_ sex, too, not anything like lovemaking, just straight-up fucking instead and this was not in any way a complaint from me--with Reynard was overwhelming, even with us almost fully clothed, and his teeth weren't half as scary as I'd thought they would be. Sexy, actually. He knew how to use them the way that I liked.

I came like a freight train, still with my pants on, and him with his on too. He heh-heh-heh laughed against my neck, soft ears brushing my face, and kissed his way up to my mouth as he stilled atop me. Without a word, he slipped out from beneath the blankets and disappeared through the open door to my bedroom--oh god, had that been open the entire time?--pulling it shut behind him. I was too worn out to give a damn about anything, even the mess in my pants, but I guessed the little shit wasn't half as fucked-out as I was and didn't really care about coming if he was leaving already. 

Maybe I wouldn't either, if I were what he was. God. Diety. Omni... something. 

I did manage to shuck off the rest of my clothes, at least, so I wasn't completely fucking useless. The space heater made it warm enough for me to take my time with using the inside of my t-shirt to wipe the spunk off my belly, and I was toasty warm under the blankets and most of the way to asleep before the door to my room opened and Reynard stood there, leaning against the frame. I'd thought he left, but a question occurred to me.

"Why do they even call you the Father of Lies?" I asked, sleepily. He seemed just the opposite to me so far.

Reynard grinned. Those teeth, but they didn't scare me anymore. "Because I didn't put Anth and Will to sleep. I can't do things like that; humans are so gullible." 

I took everything, every fucking thing, good that I'd thought about that goddamn black fox back, with those words. He was an ass, a right fucker, and my opinion of him after the first time was totally justified.

Even if I could respect the balls it took to pull it off. In another life, we probably would've been best fucking friends.

± ± ±

It was a wonder, biggest fucking surprise ever, to me that neither Anth nor Will mentioned anything about what I'd admitted to Will, I thought that morning as the three of us ate our respective breakfasts.

Sitting down at a table to eat with both of them didn't feel as weird as it should've, but maybe that was because everything else was so frighteningly normal: I had my 'sticks, leaves, and nuts vegan bullshit'--as Anth liked to say—and Anth split her morning half-a-pig with Will. Probably he wouldn't gain any weight from it either, the same way Anth didn't.

Me, I'd been chunky before I stopped eating meat. From there, the dairy thing wasn't even a question, me being lactose intolerant, plus I never liked the idea of eating chicken embryos, whether or not they were fertilized. It was just creepy. Gelatin was also something I'd generally avoided since I'd read what it really was on a package of Jell-O when I was eight. 

Yes, I was trying very hard not to think about anything meaningful. Just the mundane, the inane, the utterly pointless things. 

"So," Anth said, about the time that Will finished his eggs and started working on his portion of Canadian bacon. "Who was that with you last night?"

Fuck, I thought. "Need-to-know basis, Anth." 

"Did you bring him in through the window?" Will asked, and looked genuinely interested in the answer, even if he sounded a little mocking when he continued. "'cause we were sitting out here when it started--after you left--and we didn't see you or your new friend come in."

At that moment I was so, so fucking thankful that the living room didn't have a clear line of sight into my bedroom. I put my spoon down and leaned back in the chair, arms crossed over my chest. "Maybe I'd talk about it if you didn't feel the need to fucking double team me." 

Will ducked his head, but Anth leaned over and kissed him on the cheek--and I realized that the little shits were sitting a lot closer than they normally did--and he lifted his gaze again. His cheeks were getting red, which was cute as fuck. Puppies didn't blush, but Wills did. 

And Eliases did too, apparently; I could feel my own cheeks going red and tight too. Anth never... she wasn't horribly free with affection when it came to Will, though she always had been with me. And there was a definite mushy quality in Will's eyes when their eyes met. Anth smiled at him like a dope, which was all the confirmation I didn't need. 

Missed your chance, there, Mr. Massive F. Mistake, I thought, and felt my heart drop like a stone to the pit of my stomach when I swallowed. I stood, picked up my cereal maybe a little too roughly, slopping almond milk over the edge, and stalked into the kitchen. Making myself put the bowl down next to the sink _gently_ was a trial, but whatever, I knew what self-control was, I knew how to use that shit even if I loathed having to do it now.

I was Elias fucking Baker, I could do anything I set my mind to. Including being six kinds of idiot.

"Don't be late for work," I called to them over my shoulder. It was Anth's thing, that we have a fucking _defined_ work day. Not wanting to face them again, I went the other direction out of the kitchen even if I had to practically circle the entire flat to get to my room that way. 

If I jerked my clothes on with more force than was needed, I told myself it was only because they were working together so they really shouldn't be lovers and it was going to fuck up their working relationship and... I wasn't fooling anyone, but since it was just me, myself, and I in my head, I didn't really need to.

On the down side, it meant that I was the dumbest SOB in the room.

± ± ±

I tried not to think about it too much, but how could I not? They acted like everything was normal, but I knew it wasn't. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized: it had been going on for years. _Years_.

Because nothing in the way they fundamentally related to one another had changed. That was the frightening part, for me: they resumed their normal interactions without what looked like much effort, so it was highly likely that what was between them, this _thing_ had been going on for a long fucking time right under my nose. 

I wondered which of them had decided to keep it a secret, but knew that pretty easy; only Anth would choose to compartmentalize her life like that. It didn't happen on accident, either; they did it completely on purpose and holy fuck how had I even missed it?

Okay, yeah, so I was a little angry, you wanna fight about it? Being angry was my right, because they were fucking everything up. 

Lucky for me, there was good news waiting in my filter inbox, the one that didn't have every notice for every-fucking-thing come straight to it. Will had made a program that sorted all the e-mails and alerts, and this one Anth had marked as important too. At least it proved that between the program and Anth, the system worked: the e-mail was a message informing concerned parties that new charges were being brought forward against Henry Ferdinand. Not another murder, no, but molestation charges--a new victim had come forward and he predated all the murders, which was probably the only reason the poor sod was still alive.

Seemed likely that this kid was Ferdinand's first victim, and the abuse had spanned two years, so the kid--well, he was twenty-one now, but he'd been twelve at the time--knew a lot about Ferdinand and his preferences and could maybe even provide little details that would help me catch Ferdinand before he hurt any more boys. Lucky for me, his address was still relatively local: Worchester.

It was a break in a case if I'd ever fucking seen one, and I couldn't stay in the apartment anyway. I was going to go crazy watching Anth and Will act like nothing was different, so I forwarded them the e-mail with a message that I was checking it out, grabbed my coat, and went. 

The drive out to Worchester was delightfully uneventful for a jaunt on the Mass Pike, and the hour and a half it took to get there--thanks, traffic, always there when I don't need you--was an annoyance but still gave me plenty of time to clear my head. Driving with the window down for a full mile probably helped a fuck of a lot more in that respect, but I wasn't going to split hairs.

Very probably Will would've called the five minutes I spent calming myself down in the car when I arrived some kind of panic attack, and he'd suggest that I head home or go for retail therapy or some shit, but I wasn't going to let a little bit of heart-racing breathlessness stop me from interviewing the kid.

Young adult. Whatever. 

I couldn't have told you what the whole fucking deal with interviewing him was, either. Why it was inducing a lovely little freak-out, I mean. It wasn't _that_ different from all the other victim interviews I'd done, and I'd done a shit-ton of those. The span of abuse was a bit more drastic than I'd ever dealt with before, which reminded me a lot of...

No. No, no, no. Matthew was not in any way _me_ ; I was not that kid anymore, and I wasn't going to let this utter bullshit from well over a decade ago cloud my judgment and make me unable to do my goddamned job. 

There. Stupid memories. It wasn't like I could _fix_ anything. It wasn't like--no, I just wasn't going to go there, period, end of story. Do your job, Elias. Get out of the fucking car and do your fucking job and don't fucking well fuck it up. You're not a kid anymore. You can do this.

I took a couple more deep breaths, then unbuckled my seat belt and went to the door. 

The house was one of those single-family homes that are actually meant for a single, normal-sized family, as opposed to the three-floor "single-family" homes around Boston that get split into flats. Not huge, not tiny, just normal-sized. I rang the doorbell, then realized there was a little note that said _knock_ , so I did that too. The door was hardwood, solid, not the type some asshole was going to get through in a hurry. It opened easily enough from the inside, though the brightness of the sun shining on the door made the inside seem darker.

"Hi?" a guy who looked only a little older than Will said, and offered a hesitant smile.

I realized that I should've called ahead of time, suddenly, and felt like a fucking idiot. "Uh, hi. Are you Matthew Tracey?" 

He nodded, expression turning from hesitant to serious.

I reached out, offering my hand. "My name's Elias Baker, and I'm… I'm a bounty hunter who's after Henry Ferdinand."

The kid, the _guy_ looked a lot like me at his age, right then, even as he followed through and shook my hand. Haunted. His touch lingered even after the handshake, and his eyes didn't leave mine. He had to have some kind of Asian blood in him with his facial features, but I wasn't going to intrude. It was well e-fucking-nough that I wasn't going to, because as soon as the kid started to say "I can't…" there was a loud wail that probably came from some kind of undersized demon spawn.

Non-Reynard demon spawn. No, I don't like kids, and I don't mind saying it since you're giving me that look.

"Sorry, you can come in for a minute, but I'm kind of busy. She's got colic, and--well, if the baby's not happy, no one's happy, right?" Matthew's smile was forced.

Mine was too, but fuck it, I stepped inside and he closed and locked both deadbolts behind me. Paranoid much? I thought, but knew that it was kind of justified. If I were Henry Ferdinand, I'd sure as fuck be looking for some payback. 

"Thanks. I, um…" I wasn't about to lie and say that returning later would be oh my God so easy, but I didn't want to impose either. "Look, if there's a better time, maybe when someone else can watch the baby, I can come back."

Oh God, the look on his face. I felt like I'd kicked him when he was down, just for fun, because that was the kind of dickrag that I was. 

Shit. "Hey, um, I--whatever works for you, man, just tell me."

Matthew swallowed visibly and turned, heading toward the screaming. Brave fucking kid, in my book. I stopped at the threshold of the nursery, but he went right in, looking over his shoulder as he did. "Sorry, there's just nobody else to watch the kid, is all. My girlfr-- _ex_ -girlfriend, I mean, she never wanted kids in the first place."

So he was stuck with the demon spawn who had colic, _and_ all of the trial stuff. Fuck, what a place to be; it reminded me of the way my family had dropped me like a bad habit for coming forward about my own abuse. "Is there anything I can do that doesn't involve the sp--kid?" I asked. 

He looked puzzled as fuck over that, but he leaned over the crib and picked up the kid anyway. "Are you serious?" he asked, sounding like he'd just gotten done walking sixteen hundred miles and found out he had a thousand to go before he could sleep.

"As a heart attack." I guessed he was one of those types who'd always wanted kids but never imagined how much work it was. That was definitely not me; I had a sister who was eleven years younger. The little accident. "I'll leave the baby to you, but anything else I'll do if you're going to agree to an interview."

"Way to put me on the spot," he muttered, in between _shh, shh_ ing the baby. He'd said she earlier, hadn't he? A green little baby outfit-thing didn't give much away.

I felt kind of bad for putting him on the spot, but I had a paycheck to earn and catching Ferdinand had become something of a personal vendetta since that first night with Reynard when Ferdinand went to ground after we'd been so fucking close. For a moment I thought about giving him some kind of hard-knock-life one-liner about him scratching my back and I'd scratch his, but decided against it. "I don't mean to be an ass, but I gotta pay bills."

Judging by the smell, the shit machine had evidently been at work--maybe that was why she was crying?--and Matthew set her down on the changing table. I very pointedly didn't look; shitty diapers were about as appealing as a year-old brick of fruit cake. Less, maybe, since at least you could toss the damn fruit cake in the trash and be done with it.

"So, I answer questions, and you'll do what I need? How much work are we talking about, here?" 

I shrugged, though he wasn't looking at me. "I didn't have a question-to-work ratio in mind. How about I cook lunch and dinner and clean your kitchen?" I'd seen it on the way in, and even if it wasn't clean, it wasn't a complete wreck either. I could do both in a couple or three hours, and it was only polite to clean it if I was going to make it dirty cooking in it.

"Mmm," Matthew hummed, and even laughed, wiping his hands off with a baby wipe and then offering one to me. "Okay, you're on. I haven't had a meal that wasn't microwavable for a good two months. Shake on it?"

I did, and once again, his touch lingered. This time I got an apprehensive look with it, like he felt guilty touching me more than was strictly politic. The best I could do was smile and not look threatening. Or at least I hoped I didn't look too threatening.

He said he didn't have any preferences, except that the food not be too spicy because even if he liked it, his stomach didn't. And he didn't want to feed Sandy very spicy food with her just now starting on things that weren't formula; she ate whatever he ate, just put through the food processor until it was liquid. 

Of course he didn't have any groceries, either, so I bought enough to make some veggie stir-fry--good by itself, but could be stretched farther with the addition of a little rice--and some potato, leek, and apple soup. The main ingredient in both things was chopping and waiting for things to cook.

And he didn't have a sharp knife, so it was out to the store again to buy a sharpener. Part of me was pissed and thought that this had better fucking be worth it, but the rest was kind of glad of the opportunity to get out of the house. The more I talked with him, the more he sounded just like me right after my family dropped me and I had no fucking clue what to do with myself.

Yeah, he had the kid--her name was Sandy, which was short for something, but he called her Sandy so that was what I remembered--but aside from that he didn't have anything going for him. He'd been trying to get some kind of stay-at-home work, but had yet to find anything that clicked _and_ actually paid the bills. (It turned out that writing blog entries actually wasn't a really profitable thing unless you were a celebrity. Go figure.)

While the onions were reducing for the potato soup and we were both chopping more stuff--I was serious about the main ingredient being chopping--I worked around to the subject of the trial. "What made you decide to come forward?"

"Oh, it was this thing a few months back. A friend of mine who, um."

He didn't have to say it: his friend was also a victim. I'd had one like that. "I know what you mean," I said, probably too quickly, but whatever.

Matthew's smile was relieved, grateful that he didn't have to explain. "Well, he said that there was someone chasing him who kept getting close and then the bastard would slip away again. I guess--that's probably you, isn't it?"

I nodded, and knew immediately who Matthew's friend was. The guy had only ever come forward as a source, not as a victim.

"Well, he kind of talked me into pressing charges. The statute of limitations is up soon, so it would mean that they'd have to go ahead and convict him in absentia rather than waiting."

The only other thing they'd gotten him on were counts of making and distributing child pornography, which were worse than molestation in my book, though not as bad as murder, even if the court treated them as less severe. Probably due to not being able to put some kid on the stand and make them bawl for the jury. "Makes sense."

Matthew nodded. "I just didn't realize it would cost me so much."

There was some bullshit about doing the right thing that I should've been spouting, but I couldn't bring myself to say it. Probably because I'd been on the receiving end of that heaping, steaming pile of bullshit myself, once upon a time. Finding other words to say wasn't what you'd call easy, though, and when I finally found them we both started talking at once. "You're--" 

"I don't--"

He tittered, looking down at the leek on the cutting board. "Sorry. Go ahead."

"You're a fuck of a lot braver than any of them. I don't give a flying fuck what anyone says; it takes more guts to stand up and face someone who abused you than to run the other goddamn way."

To my surprise, Matthew just burst out laughing. "Man, you curse _more_ when you get worked up. I didn't realize it was possible."

I smiled a little, shaking my head. "You're still worth two of everyone who dropped you like a bad habit."

He kept staring down at the leek as he chopped it, knife moving in slow, measured, regular movements until it was chopped right up to the green part. When he was done he set the knife aside and raised his head, looking straight at me. His dark green eyes looked bronze in the light from the setting afternoon sun. "So, what kind of questions are you going to ask me?"

"Mostly about Ferdinand. His habits--if he had any rituals that you knew about. Little things. That's the easiest way to catch someone: the little things that make up their daily life that they can't do without. I caught Tiernan Meister because the fucker couldn't go three hours without Starbucks, and I knew that, so I knew where he'd go."

Matthew laughed a little, pushing away the cutting board and turning around to lean on the edge of the counter, hands resting lightly on the edge on either side of him. "He likes candy. Genuinely, not just as a way to lure kids. If you go to the high-end candy shops in an area--assuming there are any--and show his picture and they don't recognize it, you're not on the right path."

Huh. "What else?" I finished slicing the apple, so I walked to the stove to check on the onions. Just cooked enough to add garlic and leeks, so I did, quietly. Only when I started to rinse off the cutting board and Matthew's knife did he speak again.

"He'll have foil up on all the windows," he said, softer. "But he puts sheer curtains and these huge posters of an empty room on before the foil. They don't match, though, the posters. It always bothered me."

Chronic paranoia, I thought, even as part of me winced at the tightness of Matthew's voice. I knew that feeling, knew it like the back of my hand. "How do you make money now?" I asked, because I didn't know if I could deal with someone I related to so goddamn much breaking down.

"You don't want to know," he said, with an uncomfortable smile. "I would not be keeping this roof over our heads were the landlord not a friend of the family who took pity on me."

I couldn't win for losing, could I? Maybe I needed to ask questions that weren't fucking landmines. "Is Sandy doing well?" For a demon spawn, I didn't add.

"Aside from the colic?" Matthew asked, grinning.

At least someone was getting something out of this, I thought, and nodded. "Aside from the colic."

"She's right on target weight-wise for her length, but doesn't really like the formula. _But_ she likes bottles a lot better than she liked breastfeeding." Despite the complaint, he relaxed a bit, some of the tension leaving him. 

"Good." I stirred the onions, leeks, and garlic in the pot. "I know jack shit about kids, so I don't really know what else to ask, but I didn't want you to end up losing it."

He gave a nod of his own. "Thanks for that. Back to Mr. Henry, then?"

Interesting that he made kids use the honorific but still let them use his first name. "If you don't mind." 

We went on like that for the rest of the time it took to cook the soup and then eat it. I didn't really ask questions, despite saying I would, but he remembered a lot of tiny details. The shithead's favorite camera was an old-fashioned one that actually used film and wasn't digital at all; by the end of the two years that he'd been interested in Matthew, he'd had reams of videos. 

Ferdinand had liked to pretend that they were lovers. He had also given Matthew a pin with a blue and pink butterfly on it. Matthew still had it, and showed it to me, and it was, indeed, a symbol common to pedophile groups on the internet for pedophiles who didn't have a gender preference. 

Another thing I hadn't realized about Ferdinand: all evidence had pointed to him showing a strong preference toward boys. If he'd kept under the radar by abusing girls instead… it could explain a few things, maybe. 

Matthew didn't get close to breaking down again, though I could see by the end of the day how much it wore on him. "I'm sorry," I said, as we sat on the couch. Sandy was in the carrier-thing on the floor in front of us, _finally_ sleeping. "I don't like to dredge things up--I know how it is--but I already have some ideas for a few different ways to find the sick fucker."

He nodded, eyes half-closed. He'd had two helpings of soup, and now that Sandy wasn't crying I guess the fatigue was setting in. "I hope so. I just… the thought of him out there hurting more kids because I didn't fess up was…"

"It's not because of you," I said, reaching over and putting my hand on his leg. He was obviously a very touchy-feely person, based on the longing looks and lingering handshakes, and I felt just comfortable enough with a full stomach that I didn't mind. Especially not since he was someone who understood. 

"Isn't it?" he asked, looking down at my hand for long moments.

Without meaning to, I held my breath, and then let it out when he settled his hand over mine. "No more than any other victim who hasn't come forward." Like his fucking friend, though that guy had only been a passing interest; it had happened three times and no more. Not like Matthew, whose abuse had gone on and on until he got too old. 

He nodded, but still didn't seem to believe me if the look in his eyes was anything to go by. And I could see that well, thank you very fucking much, because he'd decided to look at me. Matthew's eyes grew glassier in the light from the TV, too. I was glad it was muted, because I sure as fuck wanted the sound of my heart beating in my ears to be the only thing I could hear when he pressed his lips against mine.

Sarcasm, there, in case you didn't catch it.

I was a dumbass, so I kissed back. Who gave a shit if it was a truly awful idea? Whose business was it if this was probably going to blow up in our faces? Not yours, that's who. So I kissed him, and told the Anth-and-Will-in-my-head to fuck off along with my common sense, ‘cause I didn't need them for what I was about to do. 

Oh God, this was truly the stupidest thing I'd ever done, including everything that had happened with Reynard, but...

Matthew made a soft, desperate noise when I squeezed his knee, and I used the opening to slide my tongue inside of his mouth. That earned me a more surprised noise, and he broke away, but he didn't looked shocked. Or rather, he only looked shocked for a moment. What was happening seemed to sink in, in the space between one breath and the next, and he kissed me again, one hand squeezing mine and the other reaching up to cup around the back of my neck.

Being touched felt amazing. I mean, I don't know what it is, but Reynard just didn't seem to really care about sex, but I felt the need dripping off of Matthew like sweat. Being needed by someone, despite Matthew not being who I wanted to need me, felt good. Just, so damn nice, as long as I ignored the creepy, crawling feeling at the back of my mind. I would ask questions later, if they even needed to be asked. 

It was possible, even if it wasn't probable, and holy fuck it felt nice to have Matthew bite down on my lower lip and pull, laughing in his throat as he did. "I haven't done this--"

"Doesn't matter," I said, and slid my hand up to his crotch. When I pressed my palm against his cock through the threadbare jeans, his eyes fluttered shut and he arched his hips, groaning and releasing my lip as he did. Fuck, it was nice, and I saw the way his muscles shifted to pull away, but dragged him into my lap instead. 

Our empty bowls clinked together and he moved to try to right them, but I caught his hand and his gaze and he grinned instead and, for the third time, kissed me. It was my turn to groan into the kiss, the weight of him in my lap counterpoint to the roughness he used when he kissed me. Good counterpoint, given that he hadn't gotten screwed by _his_ Asian genes.

"There's not much time," he whispered, eyes turning to the side, probably meant to look over his shoulder though he didn't actually. It was indication enough; things really would be ruined if the demon spawn woke up and proved her nature. "Hand job okay?" 

Handjob was fine, technically, but I really wanted to just… "I can make it quick, if you're in practice," I promised, kissing the side of his mouth. 

Matthew tensed, looking over my shoulder instead of at me, but it was only for a moment and he was all smiles again, nodding, leaning down to kiss me. "Yeah, we can do that. I'm in practice." 

I know I should've done something considerate like making sure that he actually wanted to, but my heart was beating in my ears again and I really was not thinking about the fact that he was twenty-one. I was just thinking about getting his jeans off, being careful not to rip them or anything seeing as they were in bad enough shape that I could've pretty easily, and then pushing my first two fingers into his mouth. He sucked eagerly for long moments, then let both fingers slide out of his mouth and buried his face against my neck. 

"This is going to feel so good," I whispered, sliding my middle finger inside of him. He was true to his word, relaxing immediately, so I slid the index finger right along with the first. At that he breathed out against my neck, not quite a moan, but his breath was hot and made me shudder and grasp his hip a little too hard with my free hand. "Sorry, sorry. Neck's just, kind of sensitive, so--" I cut off, groaning as he attached his mouth to my neck and sucked hard.

Thoughts about Anth and Will and seeing the marks filtered through my head, but I ignored them in favor of the feeling of Matthew's ass gripping my fingers while I thrust them into him and his teeth digging into the tender skin of my neck. I lost myself in it, a little, rhythmic, Matthew's breath and the suction and the way he only moved minutely but there was so much want, so much _need_ in those tiny movements. 

When I pulled my fingers out of him for lube, he seemed to know and leaned back, picking a bottle of lotion off the floor and handing it to me before burying his face in my neck again. "Fuck me," he whispered, his voice a little shaky. Cold-cold-hot on my neck. 

I made myself breathe evenly as I fingered him a little more, still just two fingers, but with the lotion. We should use a condom, I knew; although most STIs were history, there were still super strains. But I was already exhibiting poor decision making skills so why the fuck would I try for anything else? Nothing but lube between my cock and his ass was just fine for tonight. 

He gasped helplessly as I pushed into him, burying his face tighter while his arm around my neck digging into my shoulder blade. Despite his obvious tension, he was still mostly relaxed, and when I asked if he needed a minute he just rolled his gorgeous fucking hips, riding me as best he could without taking his face out of the crook of my neck. 

"Please," he whispered, over and over. "Please, please. I need it. Please. I need you." 

Vehemently, I was not going to goddamn think about it. I was just going to grip his hips and thrust up into him, slow at first and then as hips trembled, faster. I couldn't coordinate well enough after five years celibate--Reynard didn't count, there hadn't been any need there--to do all the shit I wanted done at the same time, so I found his hand and brought it down to his cock. "I want to see you come. Okay? I bet you're beautiful when you come." 

This time, Matthew's gasp was almost a sob.

Or it was a sob. There was wetness against my neck.

He listened, though. Wrapped his hand around his cock and moved his hand back and forth. 

Even so, I couldn't keep going. Not knowing, not knowing… I stilled my hips, wrapping one arm around Matthew's hips when he tried to continue, tried to ride me, his hand working as he leaned back, tears streaking down his face. "No, please, I can do it, I'm--it's good enough, I can do it. I can do it."

No, I thought helplessly, all words caught in my throat as I shook my head. Like a deer in headlights, I couldn't react, frozen in the moment.

I was a fucking idiot. In terms of an acid test for fucking people who weren't Reynard, this was an unmitigated disaster.

Not that I would've expected anything different if I'd been smart and thought about what I was doing, but I let my cock think for me and God, this was going down at the top of the list of my worst decisions. "I'm sorry," I said, eventually, as my cock finally slid out of him. I was surprised it had lasted so long given those sharp movements of his hips that my hands could do nothing to stop. Or I couldn't make myself stop him. I wasn't sure which was the truth and which was the white lie to make me feel better.

"It's okay," Matthew said, only a little breathless. "Right, it's okay, it happens to everyone, we can just… just… tell me what you like?"

He looked so fucking earnest, so innocent and desperate in all the wrong ways. Twenty-one, I thought. "This isn't going to work," I whispered. "It's… you're _crying_."

With a sniff, Matthew laughed. "That always happens."

Jesus fucking Christ on a chrome-plated winged toaster from the 1990s. "This isn't going to work."

"I can make it work," Matthew whispered, but he didn't look sexy. Just needy, the bad sort. He needed it to work. He needed it to be okay.

But I couldn't give that to him. I couldn't make it okay; I couldn't make him _or_ me okay and I'd probably fucked us both up worse by trying, not to mention that I'd been sixteen kinds of a fucking fool to think I could. "No. I--I have to go." At least I was strong enough to forcibly move him off of me, and it was my luck that Sandy started crying. Maybe I knocked the carrier by accident or something.

It was a relief, at least, and a good excuse to hand him his jeans, tuck my cock back inside of my underwear, and zip up. "I will keep you up to date on what's going on, okay?" I said as I stood and went to collect my bag. I'd left it in the kitchen. 

When I came back through the living room, Matthew glared at me. "Just go. You're no different than everybody else."

I really wasn't, but I wasn't going to sit around and explain that to him. I was just going to go, and do what I could to catch Henry Ferdinand and maybe try and send Matthew some money--no. I'd keep him up to date on the case. That was all. 

While he took Sandy into the nursery-slash-computer room, I left my business card on the coffee table. It was the only thing I could think of to do that wasn't horrible. 

This time I was prepared to call the thing that happened when I sat down in the car a panic attack. I couldn't breathe, my heart was a mile a minute, and I couldn't fucking think. Panic attack for sure.

I sat with my forehead on the top of the steering wheel in the aftermath, panting, tears drying on my cheeks. Once my breathing was even, I started the car and got the fuck out of there.

± ± ±

Everything was quiet when I got home. There had been four missed calls on my phone, the first three from Will and the last from Anth. Despite that, Will had probably gone home, and Anth had either gone to bed or her apartment; mine seemed completely empty. I wasn't what you'd call upset about that.

At least pulling out my phone and playing back the recorded bits, transcribing them, gave me something to do. I somehow managed to not think too heavily about what I was doing, just letting the words flow through me, thank fucking God. 

I sent the transcription and the recording to Will's e-mail, and was reminded all over again that it was really nice to have a tech analyst. He'd be able to cross-reference Matthew's statements with sales records and other things like that; he was kind of a genius that way.

Almost as soon as the message was sent, my phone rang. It was Will, of course.

"Hey," he said, a little breathless, when he answered. "Are you okay?"

My reaction was knee-jerk: "You don't have any fucking right to ask that question."

For long moments there was silence on the other end, and then a sigh, and then a soft, "Sorry, Elias. I'll see you in the morning."

Fuck, but I hated myself sometimes.

± ± ±

The following day, I didn't emerge from my room until noon, maybe noon-thirty or so. I had no idea if Anth had spent the night--there didn't seem to be much rhyme or reason to which nights she spent at my place and which she spent at her apartment, save that she was always at her place on weekends, and now that I was thinking about it I was pretty sure that ‘Anth's apartment' and ‘Will's apartment' were synonymous--but I had heard both of them start moving around right around nine-thirty.

Technically they were late, but it was a self-imposed, or _Anth_ -imposed, anyway, workday. Not to mention that I was the only fucker here who hadn't gotten out of bed before noon, so not at all technically I was massively late. Not that it mattered when the one who'd be doling out the consequences for my transgression was, well, me.

But that was one of the perks of being the head honcho, wasn't it? I didn't say anything to them, just walking past the living room and locking myself in the bathroom. I hadn't locked the door for years, but it was one more layer of defense between me and what I'd done. And what Will and Anth would say about it when I told them. 

I had to. I'd realized that at some point as I had lain in bed and listened to the sharp clickity-clack of Will's machine-gun typing, counterpointed by Anth's softer, less sure keystrokes. They hadn't spoken a word, no doubt communicating via IM instead. 

Telling them was unavoidable, if I was going to do The Right Thing. They'd want to know why I stayed longer than I planned, why I didn't call back. Why I had snapped at Will.

A shower would make me feel better, I decided, and stripped out of the clothes from yesterday. I'd slept in them. I slept naked, usually, but I'd felt too shitty for that last night. I don't know why I thought a shower would make me feel better, it definitely wasn't _logical_ , but somehow it did actually improve my mood a little.

Yeah, there was going to be some shit to deal with, but I was clean and fresh and as soon as I went back to my room I'd be clad in equally clean and fresh clothes.

Anth stood leaning up against my doorjamb, arms crossed over her chest. She waited until I was nearly on top of her before she said anything. "I know you're hurting," she said under her breath, dark gaze holding mine. "But I also know that he's fucking crazy about you and he's never had his heart broken before."

I just let my head hang helplessly rather than replying. What could I say? I wasn't glad I was breaking his heart. It needed to happen, and last night was proof positive of that, of what happened when I let my cock do my thinking, but I wasn't glad of it.

"You're fucking pitiful," she said, grabbed my arm, and pulled me into my room. 

Surprisingly, Anth--who, I will go ahead and tell you, didn't believe in locking doors that weren't exterior--locked the door behind us. I tilted my head, eyes furrowing together. "If you're going to ravish me, I'd better warn you that--" 

"Just be nice to him, please?" she asked; her brows knitted together, worry clear on her features. 

"Why?" I asked, something inside of me breaking. I knew Will hadn't asked Anth to say anything, but she was sitting here demanding that I not break her boyfriend's heart, after her boyfriend… after… after.... "Why the _hell_ does he need me to be nice? He's the one who wants me to believe he's all grown up, and if that's true, there's no fucking reason I should worry about sugar-coating anything, right?"

"He's going to be crazy about you no matter how cruel you are." Anth just about growled the words. "So, yeah, there's no fucking reason to be nice. But next time you want to bite one of our heads off for no reason, keep in mind that he knows you, _I_ know you, and we're not running away from you being a raging cock-bag to both of us because we had the audacity to start a relationship and not tell you. _You_ , who won't, vehemently will _not_ , date either of us anyway." By the time she finished talking, she was shaking with rage, tears in her eyes, though they didn't fall. She just sniffed, turned, and left me there in my towel.

So much for feeling clean, I thought as I sat down on the bed and put my face in my hands. I didn't cry, either, staying like that until I heard a chime on my cell phone that meant I had e-mail in my personal inbox. 

It was from Will, of course. 

_I'm following up on a few leads from the transcript yesterday, if you decide you want to get some work done today._

Okay, that was snappish, but I deserved that shit at this point. 

With a sigh, I hung my towel on the peg on the back of my door and got dressed in clean clothes. Clean and fresh, even if it wasn't going to do me any goddamn good at this point.

± ± ±

It took me a little longer than I wanted to work the guts up to go out there--knowing whether Anth told Will what she said to me would've helped or made it worse, depending--but I did after another half-hour or so and the smell that greeted me was fucking delicious.

"Want some tofu scramble?" Will asked brightly, motioning to the half-empty plate in front of him.

Okay, Anth hadn't told him, then. And I-like-meat-with-my-meat Will had not just eaten vegan food, but cooked it? (Anth hated cooking, so I knew it hadn't been her.)

"Will, I…" I trailed off, looking away, not sure what to say in the face of his kindness. 

"It's okay," Will said. His voice was gentle, and his eyes didn't give lie to the words; he genuinely meant that he thought it was okay. "I don't hate you, even when you're an ass to Anth and I."

Maybe she _did_ tell him, then. Despite my earlier anger at Anth, I found I couldn't work up the balls to be angry at Will. Well, I could be angry at him, I just couldn't be an ass to him when he was being such a fucking sweetheart. Instead I said nothing and collapsed into my chair, making it creak as I scrolled my mouse wheel so my computer would wake itself up.

"So d'you want some scramble?" Will asked again. "I even made it without soy sauce, the way you like."

Because the last thing you needed with tofu was more soy sauce, but Will had this thing about putting it on everything. I smiled without meaning to. "Yeah, if it's not too much trouble."

"None at all," Anth answered from the kitchen, and after the clatter of plates and some scraping, came around the divide between the kitchen and living room holding two plates.

It struck me that Will must've used the dishes in the strainer to keep from making any noise while he was cooking. Or I'd just been so out of it that I didn't hear it. Either was possible, I supposed. "Thanks," I murmured as she handed over the plate, and she actually smiled, dark compliment to Will's freckled paleness, as she handed over the plate and fork. 

"No problem," she said. "I was all for letting you starve, but Will--"

"I said just because you were being a shithead to us didn't mean we had to be shitheads to you."

Ah, no doubt he'd decided to cook as a result of Anth telling him about what I did and said. Will remiained his usual sweet self. 

"But," he said, "you get to do dishes and if you're a shithead again we're going to give you some kind of cooling-off period before we come back over here."

"We're not here for you to abuse," Anth said, simply, and sat down at her own desk with her plate. 

It was true, but I wanted to damn the little shits for pointing it out and making me be a decent person. I nodded instead, looking down at my plate. It was long moments before I could raise my gaze to look at Will, and then finally at Anth. "I'm sorry. I'm just a little… out of sorts. Apparently I'm not meant for sexual interaction with people who aren't Reynard." And probably not even Reynard.

" _That's_ what happened?" Will asked, ginger brows furrowed. "No wonder--well, look in your secondary inbox."

Oh shit. My computer was taking longer than usual to wake up, but it was awake enough now to open up my secondary inbox.

Anth, meanwhile, snorted. "I know you probably don't want to hear it, but trying to comfort a victim of sexual abuse--especially long-term sexual abuse--with sex was pretty fucking stupid."

"You're telling me," I muttered, shaking my head as I opened the message. Guessing that that societykills@gmail.com was Matthew was a safe bet, and I wasn't wrong. His e-mail was brief, but it was basically an apology for not being good enough, a thank-you for the delicious food and cleaning his kitchen, and another apology along with saying that he wouldn't mind setting things right, if only I'd come back.

Fuck. No wonder they'd left me the hell alone. Judging by the time on the e-mail and the resulting forward, he'd sent it last night after I'd gotten home and gone to bed, then Anth had forwarded it manually to the secondary e-mail since none of my usual filters had caught it. _Fuck_ , what was I going to do about this?

"Another trip out to Worchester?" Will asked. His tone didn't give me any idea about whether he thought that was a good idea or a bad one.

I had no fucking clue which it was, either. "What do you think?" I asked, looking at Anth and then Will. She was more worldly, but Will tended to be better at things that involved emotions.

"It's healthier if he doesn't have a reason to believe that you'll come running if something's wrong," Anth said, without hesitation. Will just nodded his acceptance. 

They were right; the last thing that Matthew needed was a relationship, and the last thing that I needed was someone who was needy the way he would be. The way I was at his age. Knowing that didn't make me feel any better about not hopping my happy ass in the car and driving out to Worchester though. "Should I reply?"

Anth shrugged and looked at Will, who shrugged as well. "If you want. Don't lie to him, though."

Right. Lies weren't going to help anyone. I just needed to sit on it a little while, and then I could come up with a reply that wouldn't make me feel like a grade A bitchface. I starred it and put it in the to-reply folder, then set to going through the rest of the inbox.

Will was true to his word; he'd forwarded me information on a couple of different leads, as well as a candy store at a strip mall in Dorchester--we'd suggested that was where Ferdinand had set up his new base, after we'd lost him in Marlboro--who said they did have regular customer matching the photo of Ferdinand that we'd forwarded, only he was blond and sans the goatee now.

Based on that and a few other leads, including one involving what kind of grocery stores Ferdinand would and wouldn't shop at based on his allergy to soy and rental companies that had stopped advertising housing in those areas, Will developed a geographical profile of four three-block neighborhoods where Ferdinand's new house might be located. 

It was more than I'd dared to hope for, and I laughed, getting out of my seat and walking over to Will to hug him. Will looked like he'd won the lottery; he hugged back, but tensed after a moment. When I pulled away, Anth's face was like a thunderstorm. "What?" I asked.

She pursed her lips, sighed, then said, "You're a tease, that's what."

"Jesus on a fucking toaster, Anth, it's just a _hug_ , not a goddamned marriage proposal." Though I'd have to ask both of them, if I was going to do that, and I wasn't, for Pete's titty-fucking sake. 

"No, she's right," Will said, though hesitantly at least.

Fuck this, I thought. "How about I go follow up on those lead neighborhoods? See if I can't get lucky and spot the fucker."

Will just looked at me, while Anth looked at him. She looked at me, eventually. "Don't get killed," she said. She sounded sincere, but her smile wasn't.

I resisted the urge to tell her to go fuck herself, and went to get bundled up well enough for walking to the T and subsequently wandering around Dorchester looking inconspicuous.

± ± ±

Until I set foot outside of the Fields Corner station, I'd managed to calm down. I was out of the apartment chasing down a lead; I couldn't afford to be so pissed off that I couldn't make sound decisions. I needed to make good goddamn decisions, or I was going to do things that could end up in my death, so, yeah, I'd managed to cool off.

But five minutes after I set foot outside the station, roughly another eight minutes until I got to the closest neighborhood on my list, I heard gunfire. Two shots, one right after the other, and no more. Not exactly a rare thing, this being Dorchester and all, but it did make me tuck my head and walk a little faster and repeat over and over in my head _don't notice me, don't notice me_.

Yes, as a hyperkinetic I'd probably wipe the floor with anyone that tried to approach me, but guns scared the shit out of me. I could get hit by a stray bullet, or even a bullet fucking well intended for me, and I'd be just as dead as if they'd snapped my neck.

Or in just as much pain, if I happened to get lucky.

I didn't like situations where the _if I'm lucky_ option was _morphine is a mighty useful drug_ , for the record. Which just reminded me why I was here, which only made me get more angry… yeah, if you're wondering, I wasn't thinking straight by the time I made it to the neighborhood. 

Stopping at an intersection, I leaned against a much-stapled-upon telephone pole and took calming breaths. Breathe in cool air, breathe out anger. Breathe in cool air, breathe out anger. Just like I'd learned from the guy who showed me the basics of free-style fighting before he found out I was a hyperkinetic. (It's kind of against the law to school hyperkinetic in _any_ fighting style.)

But one lesson that stuck with me was that you couldn't fight well when you were angry, along with the techniques I'd learned from him on how to cool my rage. 

Once my heart rate had slowed, I went into the neighborhood. I had one thing that would make Ferdinand's house easy to find: a description of the posters that would be in the windows from Matthew, and the knowledge that the posters wouldn't match. 

Either he'd learned to match the posters, put up blinds instead of curtains, or he wasn't in the first three-by-three block area. It was starting to get dark by then, of course, but I wasn't going to go back home with just one neighborhood looked at. That hardly made it worth the trip. 

I opted to head east, because that was the next closest neighborhood to where I was even if that part of Dorchester was arguably the most deadly part in the whole damn borough. Thinking about gun violence was a bad idea, so I thought instead about the fat fucking reward on Ferdinand's head and the fact that my fingers weren't miserably cold yet. It wouldn't be long with the sun already sinking below the houses to the west, but I could be optimistic if I wanted to force myself to be, damn it. 

Of course, of _course_ more people came out after it got dark. It was the exact opposite of decent neighborhoods in winter, and every single last person was bundled up as well as I was, far too much for me to be able to judge accurately if they were carrying. Some of them just walked like they had a gun--I can't explain what that looks like, but I can tell you after years of hunting criminals that I knew that walk a mile away--but most didn't.

It was possible the majority of them were good people, but if they were good people why the fuck would they be out after dark in the winter just looking like they were wandering around? Because the fuckfaces had to be criminals, that was why.

Luckily, or maybe unluckily, I ended up coming across a house that actually had curtains in the windows opened enough for a peek inside, though the entire house appeared to be dark and mostly empty if what I was seeing was the truth. 

A closer look was what I needed, or maybe just a look at a different window that should open onto the same room. Walking up the driveway to the neighboring house, I got my second look, and it was confirmation: the rooms didn't match. One had light-colored wallpaper, the other dark paint or wallpaper with very little contrast. The curtains matched, though--sure sign that it was the same room, given that the curtains upstairs didn't match the ones downstairs. 

I had just pulled out my phone to call Anth and Will when two guys approached me. One was tall, wearing a shiny red coat, the other shorter and wearing a puffy orange jacket. Judging by the shade of pink in red coat's cheeks and nose they'd been out in the cold as long as I had.

Naturally, Ferdinand had taken countermeasures. Why didn't I think of that?

Because you always assume they're all dumbshits, I thought, and then took off running, cursing as I did. Ferdinand hadn't stayed a wanted man despite molesting and killing a long stream of boys by not being a paranoid motherfucker.

For a moment I was really silly and thought that I might lose them; red coat had fallen behind orange jacket, when I looked. If I could lose one, I could lose the other, right? That's what I told myself as I took an abrupt left over the sparse ‘lawn', over the chain-link fence and into the back yard, then over the fence again and into the back yard of the house that backed up against this one. 

Behind me, I heard the rattle of chain-link as orange jacket cleared the fence. He didn't lose a fucking second hopping the second fence, either, which meant he was either hyperkinetic or very fucking good at chasing people down on foot. Either was possible.

When I came out onto the street again, I took a right, heading away from Ferdinand's house and back toward the T. Orange jacket dogged me despite my shortcut, so I decided on a detour. I ran up one driveway, rolled up the hood and windshield of a minivan and jumped onto the garage roof, then took off back the way I'd come over the house and through the back yard. 

I didn't exactly pause to watch, but I did stop for a moment once I was on the ground again and that orange jacketed fucker was still behind me. He dropped down off the lowest part of the roof, rolled, and ran, his movements seamless enough to confirm for me that he was, indeed, hyperkinetic.

Fuck, I thought, turned around, and there was red coat again, coming straight toward us. Fuck, fuck, fuck… red coat had to be a navigator. I cursed in my head because I didn't have enough breath to do that shit aloud. It was exactly the way Anth and I chased down criminals, and these fuckers were using it on me.

The next twenty minutes or so probably ranked in the top five scariest of my life, because one of those times when red coat hit us off at the pass, he had a knife, and fuck did I mention that I had this insatiable fucking hate for weapons? 

I didn't carry because carrying was a good way to give someone better than me an advantage if they disarmed me--yeah, it was possible, if you pitted hyperkinetic against hyperkinetic. Add to that tthe way weapons always, _always_ escalated a situation and those were two damn good reasons to hate weapons.

Seeing that goddamned knife in his hands sure as fuck made me run faster, and I was already winded. 

This was how I could tell that these fuckers were chasing me for real: when I paused to catch my breath, they didn't stop. They caught up. But I hadn't managed to get _that_ fucking far away from Fields Corner, so twenty minutes was all it took for me to get back there. 

I all but slammed my T-bracelet down the scanner at the turnstile, and was grateful that for once it didn't error. The bracelets were old technology and not as reliable as the microchip tech--yeah, microchips that went in your skin and kept all your credit card info, not to mention your T pass--but I was a cheapskate and, oh God, for once it didn't fail me when I most needed it. 

I resisted the urge to turn around and flip the fuckers off, on the off chance that they had T passes too, and went down the staircase for southbound traffic in three leaps, from the three landings, a roll, and another leap. 

People looked at me funny. I only looked long enough at them to make sure they weren't going to chase me.

The benches were full, as usual, so I just walked swiftly to the middle of the platform, found a place to lean against the wall between an old lady and a girl in a green sweater who looked barely old enough to be out on her own. I coughed, gasping for breath now that I could, pain stabbing me in the chest every time I breathed in as nausea rolled over me. 

Too fucking hard. I'd pushed myself too fucking hard. Those two guys had been at least ten, maybe fifteen years my junior, and I was getting older, no matter how much I didn't want to, and oh God I was just lucky to be alive, wasn't I? Spots danced in front of my vision when I opened my eyes again, so I closed them until the train came.

By then my breathing had evened out a bit and there weren't any more spots in my vision. The nausea was still there, but I had the whole way to Mattapan and then the return journey north to Park Street for that to go away.

± ± ±

Despite being hyperkinetic, my sense of direction was only marginally reliable. I think I only made it back to the T station because I'd pretty much stayed on two main streets, and once I hit the bigger of the two streets and saw some familiar landmarks I'd known exactly where I was and exactly how to get to safety.

But what that meant was that I only had a little bit of an idea of where Ferdinand's house was, so after what felt like long minutes of puzzling it out I just got off of the train at Shawmut--one south of Fields Corner--and called Anth. She answered on the third ring: "Hello?" 

"Hey," I said, and started at the sound of my own voice. It was hoarse, badly so. I cleared my throat, but it wasn't much better when I continued. "I found his house, but I spent half an hour running for my life after, so I'm not sure where it is."

"Are you okay?" Anth asked, but before I could steer her back on target, she added, "I'm putting you on speaker." And explained to Will what I'd said. 

"Fine," I said, only a little irritable, a state which was understandable considering I was only alive because of good fucking luck. "I know it's in the last neighborhood on the list that Will gave me. It was the second I checked; I came from the first one on the list, and I found it not very long after I entered the neighborhood. But I have no fucking idea which house it was. The streetlights there are hit or miss, and the house didn't stand out, you know? It was just the curtains in the window and the rooms not matching. And the thugs standing outside waiting to kill anyone who looked like they might be getting close."

Will was the smart one, as usual: "Do you think he's busy moving things as we speak?" 

It didn't take any thought to answer, "Yes." He was too paranoid not to. The sound of typing in the background as soon as I answered was loud: Will's.

"Then we'll grab the car and head there," Anth said, simply, like it was an easy thing. Like her and Will could drive worth a damn, like...

But did I want to catch Ferdinand or not? It could take months before we caught up to him again, even considering our new information, and I knew at least one person who'd sleep easier if I caught Ferdinand sooner rather than later. I owed Matthew that much, at least. "Okay," I said, softly. "I'll switch trains and head back. Want to meet at the corner of… hold on." I pulled the phone away from my face and looked at the map, picked an intersection that was probably near Ferdinand's, and rattled it off. 

"Aye-aye," Will said, and I could hear the smile in her voice. "Google maps says that we'll see you inside fifteen minutes, but it could be as much as a half-hour with traffic."

It'd probably take me ten minutes to get back to Fields Corner; if the screen was to be believed, the next northbound train was due in four minutes. From there, if I jogged a straight shot I could make it to the intersection in another ten minutes or so. It would have to do.

I just hoped that the thugs weren't waiting at the station for me when I got back, but I had a feeling they were back helping Ferdinand destroy evidence and get the hell out of dodge.

± ± ±

It took twenty-six minutes, all told, to get to the place we'd said we'd meet up. I'd stopped for a bottle of water, because my throat felt more and more awful. The water made it feel better, but I'd nearly choked and threw it all up because I tried drinking it too fast.

Anth and Will weren't at the intersection, but I must've misjudged distances because as I walked up to the intersection, down the cross street I saw Ferdinand and a frightened-looking boy who couldn't be any older than thirteen--right on the cusp of puberty--loading computer parts into an older model station wagon. 

Shit, I thought, at the same time gleeful that I wasn't seeing nothing but taillights disappearing into the distance. 

Now the only question was whether I needed to sit my happy ass down here and wait or go get the fucker while I had the chance. They looked like they were about done--the car wouldn't hold much more by the way the boy was pulling out what had to be a server and putting it back in at a different angle. As soon as they were gone, they'd be _gone_ , so this was my chance to catch Ferdinand for at least another couple months, during which time he could kill the boy and abduct another. 

Not a risk I was sanguine with taking. I thought about texting Anth and Will, but remembered: navigator. Anth would be able to find me easy no matter where I ended up while I chased this shithead.

I wondered if orange jacket and red coat had given Ferdinand a description of me. No fucking way I could help it if they had, but I had a feeling they'd only given him a cusory description. I pulled my hat down low over my eyes, flipped the neck of my pea coat up, and looped my scarf outside of it, obscuring my face save for my eyes. After that it didn't take more than shoving my hands in my pockets, ducking my head, and walking with a purpose. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the boy hesitate, but Ferdinand made a motion at him and he picked up the monitor box on the ground next to him and began fitting it into the back of the station wagon. 

Funny how somebody could be chronically paranoid right up until--

Abruptly, I felt someone shove what felt awfully like the muzzle of a gun against my back. Fuck, I hated guns. They had this awful tendency to just run my fucking day. Not many choices when it came to guns.

But hating them didn't mean I had no idea how to respond to them. The fucker holding the gun was dumb enough to hold it flush against my back, so I could duck and turn at the same time, swinging my arm around and dislodging the gun from his hand. Or I would've, if it weren't fucking orange jacket holding the gun. He pulled it away as soon as I began to turn, so all my hand caught was the edge of the gun.

Lucky for me, he didn't discharge the damn thing. I kept right on spinning, until I was facing away from him and then back again, snapping my fist and my leg out at the same time. He couldn't dodge both of them, couldn't jump away with the way his weight was already bearing toward me, so he turned and ducked and I delivered a swift kick to the small of his back. It would've been his stomach if he weren't fucking hyperkinetic. 

In my pocket, my phone rang, lighting up the strangely quiet atmosphere with the ringtone: a bright, cheery series of bells.

Orange jacket grabbed my arm with one hand and tried to pull me toward him. I let him, moving with the motion, rolling and coming up into a crouch then sweeping him off of his feet. I stood; he kipped up, going from his back to his feet with a flip. Not missing a beat, I clotheslined him, feeling the crunch of his nose breaking against my elbow. It was just about the easiest bone on the body to break, and painful as fuck, not to mention the way it bled... most people tended to stop for at least a few seconds after a broken nose.

Cursing, he stumbled away, and red coat was there waiting for him, eyes wide. Not fucking well worth whatever he's paying you, is it? I thought, watching red coat and orange jacket rabbit it the fuck out of there. 

Ferdinand hadn't stopped to spectate while we were fighting; when I turned to face him, the boy was standing there in front of him with a bat. Ferdinand had a gun trained on me. "It'd be a shame if I had to kill you," he said, and gave a nasty grin. 

"You won't kill me," I said, and believed it. Mostly. "I'm not young enough." 

His scowl could've curdled cream, which was fine by me, except he just tapped the boy on the shoulder and the boy charged at me, screaming, swinging the bat.

Fortunately the boy was better at screaming than he was at batting anything, and against someone like me he didn't have a fucking chance to do any damage. He didn't need to, though; Ferdinand took advantage of the boy's distraction to head for the car, keys flashing in his hand. 

Oh fuck no, I thought, stepped around the boy, and went after Ferdinand. The boy lost his steam as soon as he saw how I moved, but the second my arms closed around one of Ferdinand's wrists, the keys rattled and I realized that he wasn't holding the keys for the car; the pigfucker was holding them because of the mace on the key ring. 

I managed to turn my face away before Ferdinand could spray me directly, but that shit still burned like fuck on the only exposed skin: the top of my ear. Thank God I'd flipped the collar of my coat up, or I would've been on the ground writhing in pain for fucking sure. I tightened my hand on Ferdinand's wrist and without looking at him, dragged him toward the house. 

My phone started ringing again. The boy screamed and ran at us with the bat, but I was faster, even pulling Ferdinand behind me.

Being off-balance from getting dragged was enough to stem off any further attempts to mace me, and as soon as we were inside I ripped the keychain out of his other hand, threw it across the room, and cupped one hand around the back of Ferdinand's neck so I could slam the fucker's face against the wall next to the front door while I locked it.

The crunch and gush of blood from his broken nose was wonderfully satisfying, but I couldn't do more than that without risking legal ramifications. One injury was defending myself, but a second would be too much. Even if the shitbucket deserved it. 

His face still pressed against the wall, I untucked his shirt and sweater and pulled the gun out of the back of his pants. It was a revolver, but it wasn't loaded. "Were you just going to pistol whip me to death?" I asked, disbelieving. 

"Can't have ammo in it around the boys," he said, like he actually gave a fuck about their well-being. Then again, he wasn't a necrophiliac, so he needed live prey.

The thought made me tighten my hand, digging forefinger and thumb into the nerves that ran up the sides of the neck. He gasped, groaned, and ended up on his knees before I let up my grip. "Don't act like you care," I hissed at him. My phone rang for a third time, but I was too busy getting out the zip ties and zipping together his wrists and then his ankles as well, just in case he got his hands free some goddamned how. Knowing my luck, he could.

"I do care," he said, which was just the wrong thing. I shoved him hard enough that he just ended up sprawled on his face.

"Oops," I said, and my phone rang for a fourth time. Fuck, who was calling? Pulling it out, I saw that it was Will's number, his normal cell phone, not one of the burners. Why the fuck wasn't he just using our human dousing rod? I put my foot in the middle of Ferdinand's back to keep him pinned and answered. "Yeah?" 

"Oh God," Will said, and sobbed into the phone. "Elias, Anth... Anth--she's dead, I think!" 

His words were slurred--from what, I had not a clue--and I just, what the fuck? Anth, dead? "What?" I would've felt something if she died, wouldn't I? Like on TV when you just _knew_.

"Accident." Will sobbed again, and I flicked the video function on and saw him smear blood, a mix of dark and bright, across his face. It was gushing from cuts on his hand and the right side of his face, one eye shut against his injuries. 

They talk about those moments when your blood goes cold. That was what happened to me: my blood went cold and I just froze, I fucking froze, as tears streamed down Will's face and he gasped in breaths. 

"Help us," he said, softly. 

"Where?" I heard someone who sounded a fuck of a lot like me ask. 

Will shook his head, minute movements, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. "Dunno. Elias, I... things are weird. Can't feel my right side."

No, I thought helplessly. "Call an ambulance," I said, only vaguely hearing myself. "They'll trace your phone."

"What's the point?" Will asked, and I saw it coming, saw it almost in slow motion as his eyes filled with tears and he looked to the side--Anth?--and then back at the phone. "She's--she's... she's..."

Fuuuuuck. On the floor, Ferdinand began to laugh, a real laugh, but the nastiest I've heard in my entire fucking life. And, thanks to my cousins, I've heard some nasty goddamned laughs. I moved my foot off of Ferdinand and began pacing. What did I do? What did I _do_? There had to be other people who'd seen the accident, someone else who called an ambulance.

"Nobody can help her now." He gave a bitter thing that might've been a laugh, but sounded to me more like a choke. It got him started coughing, which brought fresh bright red blood to his lips. "Maybe--maybe your devil. If zey were real." Will gave another of those choke-laughs, and dissolved into a coughing fit.

He meant it as gallows humor, but it got my mind working: what were devils for, if not to make deals with? But I couldn't let Will see. Couldn't... couldn't. "I'll fix it all," I said, quickly, and ended the call before I could change my mind.

Ferdinand's laughter trailed off and he started to talk. I kicked him in the gut, but couldn't find any pleasure in seeing the way he curled in on himself, breath wheezing in and out.

"Reynard," I said, the word barely more than a breath. "Reynard. Help. Please." 

Ineloquent as it was, a summons was apparently still a summons: Reynard sauntered in from the room to the left, arms crossed over his chest, crooked smile quirking his lips. "Dear Elias. I've been waiting for this." 

I swallowed, looking down at the hardwood floors, then up at the room around me. Foil where the window would be, outlining a frame that had to hold the poster normally. I'd seen the posters in the car, though, stacked in the back seat. The room was only sparsely populated with furniture, and through the oversized doorway that Reynard had walked through, a dinner had been set out. Interrupted. 

He leaned against the back of the ratty couch like he belonged there. "Did you know that the universe tends to align for events like this? Not long before it happens, the poor damned soul who's going to make a deal calls the black fox for something entirely unrelated. So they'll know we exist when they _really_ need us." 

If I'd been with it, I might've thought about the fact that he was calling himself a black fox instead of a devil or a god or whatever, but I wasn't. And that he'd known it was coming. But all I could think was _they'll die_ , over and over, like the worst sound bite in the world stuck on repeat.

"So what is it you need?" he asked, sounding entirely too fucking smug. "I do already know, yes, but there's protocol to observe: you have to make a request." 

Fuck. "I want them to be okay." I was surprised at the thick quality to my voice. 

Reynard clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "Ask clearly and succinctly for what you want. Use names. Come now, Elias, you've filled out enough paperwork for the courts that you should be well-versed in bureaucracy by now."

I cleared my throat, but my voice was still small and lost when I spoke. "I want you to make Anth and Will alive and okay. Make it like they never got in the accident." 

A wide grin was the last fucking thing I needed to see, but there Reynard's was, mocking me. Mocking my pain. He raised one hand, tapping his lower lip with his finger. "Mmm, it's outside of my jurisdiction, the it-never-happened bit, but I can restore them to their former selves and transport them away from the accident. Is that acceptable?" 

Initially I nodded, but Reynard made a _go on_ motion with his hand, so I spoke: "Yes. Restore them and transport them away from the accident."

Reynard's grin changed, growing sharper. More teeth, or nastier ones, anyway. "Gladly. I'll even take care of the aftermath of the accident; humans are so _suggestible_. But you have to do something for me first." 

Protest was on my mind when I opened my mouth, but Reynard made a hushing motion, so I said nothing.

"It's a deal with the devil, Elias. Just be glad I'm not the type who gives you ten years to live out your wish and sends hellhounds after your time's up." He leaned up, fairly bouncing with excitement. "So! Here's your task: Kill him." One long finger pointed at Ferdinand.

Who sat up, eyes wide, protesting. "You can't--this is insanity. If you kill me, there's no reward!" 

If Will and Anth were dead, a reward was meaningless. I was willing to lose it. But I wasn't willing to kill someone like Ferdinand; I enjoyed the thought of pedophiles dying horribly a little too much to go down that road. "I can't."

"Oh?" Those glowy fucking eyes flared in the relative darkness of the room. "Has someone broken your fingers? Are there no blunt objects with which to bludgeon the poor bastard?"

"No," I whispered, staring at Ferdinand as one stares at the instrument of one's doom. Or one's savior. Ferdinand's mouth worked, his eyes darting to Reynard, and me, then back to Reynard. I looked at him too, then shut my eyes tightly. "I--if I kill him, I can't..." I couldn't face Will and Anth. There was no way.

"I'll be off, then," Reynard said, and began strolling toward the door. "It will be hard living without your friends, yes, but you needn't worry--you'll kill yourself before long."

God, he was horrible. Sixteen fucking flavors of horrible. That the three of us should die and this piece of shit live was just... there couldn't be a higher power who was good, if things like that were allowed to happen. 

Maybe black foxes were all we had. God, humanity was royally fucked, weren't we?

"She would've lived, you know," he added, only somewhat flippant. "Anth. If you'd answered your phone sooner, she would've lived." 

My breath wouldn't quite come, hitching in my chest as tears burned in my eyes. It was my fault she was dead. My fault that Will was injured. 

"Oh, he'll be dead before the ambulance arrives," Reynard whispered, hot breath purring over my ear. "No worries--you'll lose both of them if you don't do this. Never fear that, never _doubt_ , dear Elias."

No. No, no, no.

"So you see, there's truly no other way," he continued. "Will's dying as we speak. Anth is dead. They don't deserve it. But this bastard? He's perfectly alive, and _deserves_ to die. I'm simply righting the balance, aren't I? Making sure the good guys win." 

It was fucked up, but I could feel anger boiling up inside of me. Anger at Reynard, anger at Ferdinand, anger at the world for being as fucked up as it was. It just wasn't right, not at all. 

"Come now," Reynard purred. "Right the balance, Elias." 

I wished that the gun had been loaded. It was a cleaner death than Ferdinand deserved, but at least it would be easy. It wasn't, though. I went to my knees next to him, and Ferdinand tried to kick at me, though between his bound ankles and my reflexes it was pure foolishness. "Don't make this harder than it is," I told him, softly. 

Ferdinand bared his teeth at me. "Fuck you." 

Looking into his eyes, I brought my hand up, settling it on his throat and in one smooth movement rolling him onto his back and pinning him down by it. He gagged, trying to get words out, struggling, and I had to crawl up, crawl on top of him and straddle his chest--his bound hands behind him made his abdomen bulge freakishly--and squeeze and squeeze and squeeze.

One hand didn't work; I had to use two. I had to press harder, harder, until he stopped kicking, then he stopped struggling, then his eyes stopped moving and his pupils began to dilate. The left one got larger faster. A tear trickled down his cheek. 

I vomited. On him, on my hands still around his neck. My fingers were sore, stiff--how long had it taken? It felt like hours. I threw up again, on hardwood next to Ferdinand this time, and managed to force myself to my feet so I could stumble down the hall until I found a bathroom and sank down to be miserably sick into the toilet until there was nothing left in my stomach to bring up. 

The thing I'd promised myself never to do. 

Fuck. 

My eyes watered, or I cried. I didn't know, with the vomiting. 

Reynard stood to the side, watching me be sick, until I was done, at which point he leaned down and pressed a surprisingly sensual kiss to one cheek, then the other.

I hope I had vomit there and the taste of it stayed in his mouth for months. 

"I'll transport you there and take care of things," he said, almost tenderly. "Ferdinand's family will find him. There won't be any traces of you left."

Part of me wanted to ask about the boy, but the rest of me was just relieved that now that Reynard had gotten his payoff he didn't want me here anymore. 

It was just like before: it wasn't between blinks that I got transported, but simply that I was there in Ferdinand's bathroom one moment and the next I was in my own bathroom, feeling gross all over. I struggled to my feet and ran the water in the sink, rinsing out my mouth over and over and then brushing my teeth.

Over and over.

If the rest of me couldn't be clean, well, at least my mouth could. 

A knock on the door stopped me from going too overboard, and Will's anxious voice. "Elias? Is that you?" 

I spat out the toothpaste in my mouth. "Yeah." My voice only wavered a little, which was a win, in my book. Small fucking favors.

Will cleared his throat. "Well, you um. What the fuck happened?" 

Fuck. I couldn't do this. I leaned to the side, my face against the cool tile, eyes shutting. Not that I hadn't understood Anth's _too soon_ before, but at this moment I understood it too fucking well for comfort. "Not now," I said, simply, and began brushing my teeth. Again.

± ± ±

The temptation to just spend the night in the bathroom was almost overpowering. I'd slept in more than one bathtub, back when I'd been a wild child, after all, but it would mean tons of aches in the morning and it would worry Will and Anth.

Why it was important that I not worry them, I couldn't say, but I emerged from the bathroom after a few hours and found them huddled together on the couch, curled around one another. Will was asleep, his head resting on Anth's shoulder, mouth open a little. Anth's dark eyes caught mine. 

She didn't hold a finger to her lips, didn't shake her head, didn't nod. She just looked at me for long moments, then with excruciatingly careful movements began to disentangle herself from Will. He was tired, but he wasn't so zonked that she managed it. Somewhere right around the time she tried replacing her shoulder with the big pillow that sat on the couch, he sat up ramrod straight, eyes wide like he'd been startled. 

As soon as he saw me, he smiled. It was a dopey, sleepy, cute smile, and I found myself returning it in spite of everything. 

"Feeling better?" Anth asked, as she reached out to touch my arm gingerly. Her tone said that she hoped I was; her expression said that she was fairly sure I wasn't.

I nodded, not trusting my voice to lie well enough for me. 

She raised one eyebrow-- _Really?_ \--and Will pulled Anth back down on the couch. "Come sit with us, Elias," he murmured, patted the couch, and smiled again, this smile more beautiful than before. More awake, too.

Part of me wanted to ask if he knew what had happened, wanted to demand if he knew what I'd done to save both of them. He and Anth were worth so much more than a pedophile, no matter how crafty he'd been.

But I couldn't forget what it felt like to feel Ferdinand's larynx being crushed under my fingers. I couldn't forget what it was like to watch the life, that most valuable and ineffable thing, leave his eyes.

No, I told myself. You just spent a few hours thinking about that. You're going to think about good things. Just for a little while. You don't have to forget, you just have to not think about it for a little while. That was the deal I'd made with myself that made me leave the bathroom: I had to think about only good things for an hour, and then I could lock myself in my room and bawl more if that was what I needed to do. 

Will opened his arms, beckoning with one hand; I made myself obey. He wants to cuddle you, so why not let him? Why not celebrate life? I wondered if they'd worked out what had happened, or parts of it, but didn't have enough guts to sit up and ask. Or maybe I just couldn't face it. 

No thinking about death for an hour, I reminded myself. Give the little shits some reassurance, and then you can go back to your breakdown in progress.

I sat down on the couch in the space between them that they'd made for me. Anth wrapped her arms around me from one side while Will did the same from the other side. Will lay his cheek against my shoulder, and Anth's hand rubbed down my back and up again, over and over. 

"So, we had the most curious visit from someone who looked an awful like your Reynard," Anth said, slowly. 

Will squeezed me, a brief side-hug, except now he was easing one of his lanky legs over my lap, kneeling on the other. I couldn't meet his eyes. Couldn't meet Anth's either. "Yeah?" My voice sounded hollow. 

"He told us what you did," Will murmured, and maneuvered around to where he was all but straddling my lap. "So you don't have to worry about that." 

Huh. But-- "Why would he do that?" He was evil, or at least trickster, incarnate, and informing them so that I didn't have to was a huge favor. 

"I think he meant it to disturb us, or something on those lines," Anth said, and something in her voice made me look at her. She wasn't disturbed? The question must've been obvious on my face, because she shook her head once. "Ferdinand was trash. Sucks we can't turn him in for reward money, but you know what? I'd rather have him dead and Will and I alive, personally."

"But I--" I couldn't even make myself say it; I choked on the words, looking away again. I was shaking. Trembling.

Will's fingers cupped my cheek, then my chin, turning my gaze toward him as he raised his head and looked into my eyes. "It doesn't matter, Elias. You're not a horrible person, okay? We love you. We'll _always_ love you." 

Fuck, I was getting choked up. I swallowed a few times, but it didn't go away, so I just shook my head. What did you say to that kind of thing? You're a murderer, but we love you anyway! Thanks for having flexible morals, I really appreciate your acceptance of this horribly shitty thing that I did.

Not thinking about death for an hour, I told myself, squeezing my eyes shut against the tears I could feel welling up. 

Will kissed my forehead, my left cheek--the side that Anth wasn't on--and then my lips. It wasn't an amorous kiss, not like he was asking if he could fuck me or anything, but it _was_ intimate; his lips lingered against mine for long, long moments. My eyes slid shut, at some point, and it quit feeling so miserably goddamned awkward as it had at first. 

The kiss lasted until Anth pulled my shirt out of where it was tucked in and slid one hand underneath, her warm fingers brushing from my right side around to my back, where they pressed in the indent of my spine and she traced up and down that track. 

As soon as I opened my eyes, I saw her hand on Will's shoulder, and him looking at her and smiling with such affection in his eyes that it made my breath catch. I was intruding; this was a truly awful idea. "I--" 

Anth withdrew her hand, and Will's brilliant blue eyes turned to me once more. The affection didn't leave, and his smile was even warmer than Anth's hand had been. "We don't have to now," Will said agreeably, and Anth nodded her acceptance. 

We didn't _have_ to now, but for a good few minutes I had thought of something that wasn't the fixed fucking look in Ferdinand's eyes when he died. Even if it was an intrusion, the way they acted it was welcome, and if I was going to be a dipstick and make unhealthy decisions I'd rather them at least be ones I was going to enjoy the fuck out of rather than ones that were on the lines of spending the night in the tub.

"No, I, it's just, feels like a fucking intruder," I said, speaking softly at first and trailing off, mumbling the last so softly that Anth tilted her head and raised one eyebrow. Will shifted on my lap, but I couldn't look at him. "An intruder." I spoke in a normal voice, this time, then ducked my head; confessing that was embarrassing as shit. 

Will shifted in my lap again, putting more weight on his feet, hooked on the insides of my legs, than his knees on either side of the couch. I bet it looked silly as fuck, me so short and him so tall and still in my lap. "We're inviting you," he said, simply. 

Anth's fingers slid into the hair at the base of my neck and she kissed me on the cheek. "That's right," she whispered in my ear, voice toeing the line of sex on a stick. "We want you right where you are." 

"Well," Will drawled, and I looked at him this time, saw the smile playing his lips. I'd never seen that smile; it was anything but innocent. "Maybe with less clothes." 

Of course Anth added her laughing agreement, and when I faced her she kissed me on the lips. This was one of those kisses, the aroused ones, the playful ones. Her tongue slipped into my mouth easily and her hand found its way under my shirt again. Naturally, I let her; I had a feeling I'd _always_ let her.

I lost myself in that kiss, in the taste of the hamburger she'd had mixed with some kind of wine and the way she sucked on my tongue and raked her teeth over it, bit my bottom lip. It was fucking fantastic, just the right mix of gentle and rough, and when the kiss broke and Will pulled my shirt off, I let him. 

"God, I've wanted this for so long," he whispered, and that look, that fucking fantastic lewd look, showed up again as he leaned in to claim a kiss of his own, both of his hands palming my nipples at the same time. 

Will wasn't as aggressive of a kisser as Anth; we kissed again and again, lips closed, lips open for a fraction of a second, and then open longer as our tongues twined together and Will turned his hands, pinching my nipples lightly. 

Anth meanwhile leaned in and whispered something in Will's ear--I couldn't make out the words, but it wasn't like I was trying to--and he broke the kisses. He grinned madly at me, shifted, and our cocks pressed together. Yeah, there were layers of jeans between them, but it still felt amazing enough to make Will whimper while I shuddered, hands gripping him. I'd grabbed his jeans at some point, fingers through the loops, but now I rocked my hips up against his and pulled him down.

We both groaned and Will's back arched, his chest suddenly pressing against his hands, which were still teasing my nipples. A little awkward, but it was a natural kind of thing, not from discomfort or anything. The pressure was momentary but delicious, drawing a high whimper out of me. 

"Oh?" Anth said, and stood, standing behind Will, pressing him harder against me, one hand on the center of his back and the other on his ass. 

Again, we both groaned, and Anth's grin just didn't quit. She made Will rock against me, made me breathless as my head spun from a combination of arousal and lack of oxygen. Not that I minded. No fucking _way_ did I mind. The minute movements that Will made in the face of Anth's pressure were the best goddamn thing in the world at that very moment.

"Kiss him," she ordered loudly enough for me to hear. 

Will's obedience was near-instantaneous. He pressed his lips to mine, not bothering with smaller kisses, just progressing directly to the open-mouthed swirling our tongues together, panting into one another's mouths, and those sounds, those little sounds we both made.

Suddenly the pressure let up, and we broke the kiss, our heads tipping back as we breathed in sweet, sweet oxygen. Will was the first to catch his breath: "Fuck. I can't even--Anth, I'm going to come if you keep that up."

I raised my head, still a bit dazed. They were both so intent and earnest and gorgeous. 

"I thought that was the idea," she teased, and then leaned over his shoulder to press her lips against mine, thoroughly distracting me from everything else in the universe for a few seconds. 

Aggressive kisser. I loved it, loved _her_. I wanted it to keep going forever, but someone's hands--Will's?--came up and their fingers teased my neck, touch light, almost ghosting over the sensitive skin of my neck. A mouth was next, confirmation of my guess. Suction was nice, but his teeth were better, sucking skin into his mouth and biting, nipping. 

Pretty soon kissing Anth was just an afterthought to the squirming and groaning, and I guess she realized it too because she broke the kiss and leaned down to give Will's neck the same treatment that he was giving mine. Will shivered at first, then moaned against my skin, his hips grinding against mine jerkily.

Gorgeous. Just, gorgeous. The way his skin was flushed straight down his neck, the feeling of one of his hands gripping the outside of my arm, the mischief and pride in Anth's eyes as she looked up at me and bit down harder on Will's neck. 

Will's fingers dug in especially hard and he panted for breath against my neck. I counted the breaths for some reason, one, two, three, all the way to seven and he groaned again, louder, hips grinding down hard, hard, harder as he began to shake. It wasn't just a tremor; it was a full-body shake, his knees squeezing my hips between them while he gasped and gasped.

It took him long moments to finally make a noise again, and this time it was a relieved sound, the _ahhh_ of someone who was satisfied and just--post-orgasmic. 

So quiet, though. I tangled my fingers in his hair, petting as his head stayed right where it was, resting on the couch but with his mouth tantalizingly close to my neck. 

Anth leaned against his back, her fingers finding the short hair at the back of my neck as she smiled at me. "He's always pretty easy to come," she said, but not like it upset her. "But I like it."

After the demonstration, I liked it, too. 

Will's hands found my neck again, one of his thumbs rubbing over my pulse point. "You like breath play a lot, huh?" 

It was pretty obvious, I guessed, though it was one of those things I'd always been afraid to do too much of when I was alone. Now it made me think of Ferdinand, the choking, but the way Anth had done it was masterful and I thought I could take a lot more of that. I nodded. 

All at once, both of Will's hands pressed against my neck, his thumbs crossed in the middle. I froze completely for a few seconds, then burst into action, bucking my hips to try to unseat Will, twisting under him, flailing when neither thing worked and hitting him right in the face. 

I don't know if it was on purpose, the hitting him, but it got him off of me and I was free to sit there and grip the couch and pant and stare at both Anth and Will wide-eyed.

Will's hands were pressed over one cheek, Anth's hands holding him lightly but all her attention was on me. "Elias," she said, slowly and carefully. "Elias. It's just us. It's okay." 

No it fucking well wasn't. Shame burned in my cheeks. It took two tries for me to get up, but Anth didn't try to stop me. Will wanted to, but Anth had the jump on him and hissed his name, holding him around the waist as he tried to go after me. 

No more. I locked the door of my room behind me and all but fell onto my bed, clutching one pillow and burying my face into it so they wouldn't hear me scream. Whether it was frustration or anger or just, I don't even _know_ , I couldn't have said. But it felt good to scream. Like picking at scabs. 

My cock obviously hadn't gotten the message, since it was still hard when I started, but by the time I was just sobbing, gasping for breath, it was soft again. My head spun; would I ever catch my breath properly tonight?

Probably not.

At least nobody tried knocking on my door.

± ± ±

I slept, but not very fucking well.

Or rather, I slept, and every time I drifted off, I had dreams about killing people. Not just Ferdinand, but some of the other pedophiles I'd captured. My cousins, especially. 

If it weren't so goddamned depressing, I'd probably have kept a list, just so I could keep track of who my subconscious thought were the worst fuckers. 

The thing that got me out of bed was an email from Will about Ferdinand's funeral. Who the fuck would bother paying for a funeral for that child-murdering pile of shit, I had no clue, but it was happening, and happening today, because his family (who, as far as I could tell, hadn't spoken to him in three years--here was the usual case of death making a saint from a dickwad) was Jewish and Jeudiasm had some thing about getting the body in the ground as quickly as possible. Lucky today was Saturday, I guessed, so I could legitimately skip out on doing real work.

Will's message at the top, before the forwarded notice, was short and sweet: _If you like, I'll go with you. I've been to a lot of funerals._

It was funny how he knew me so goddamned well, but I still felt that even after him working for me for three years I knew so little about him. He didn't talk about his personal life much, and I guessed I damn well knew why now: he wouldn't have been able to avoid mentioning Anth. Now that I was thinking about it, she had talked about her other lovers a fair bit, but never talked in depth about things like visiting family. I could guess who she took with her, now, but hadn't noticed the lack before with my own avoidance of all things family.

Realizing that I didn't actually know the two most important people in my life was kind of like a slap to the face. They knew me intimately--I'd shared everything with them, if only because they were both glorified personal assistants--but I hadn't even realized that Will had been to so many funerals. He'd been to one that required missing work, so I knew about that, but the rest? I'd had no fucking idea. None.

It wasn't just his relationship with Anth that I hadn't known about. The whole not-knowing thing was an opportunity, I guessed, but still a sobering realization. I tapped out my reply on my phone, _Ties or no?_ and crawled out of bed. I'd never been to a funeral before.

My head hurt, no doubt a result of all the crying I'd done, and my eyes were sore, tender almost, like I had a black eye. A look in the mirror proved that I had bags under my eyes and a somewhat haunted expression, but no other remnants from the fight. Still, it hurt like fuck when I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. 

By the time I'd pulled on black slacks with a subtle dark grey pinstripe and a navy blue dress shirt (Don't think about why, don't think about why, don't think about why) Will had replied: _Ties. Breakfast here or grab it on the way?_

As I mulled it over I pulled out the matching pinstripe suit jacket and a tie with a boxy pattern that encompassed several shades of dark blue and grey with a black base. It was the darkest tie that I owned, and just as subtle as the pinstripes. A half-Windsor was fine, simple motions that were ingrained in me after a childhood full of wearing tailored suits with real ties, and upon pulling it tight I looked like a respectable guy wearing a respectable, but not tailored, suit. 

I didn't think about where I was going. Or why. Or anything but the immediate: being presentable. I buttoned the single button on the suit jacket while I stared at myself in the mirror. 

Presentable was something I definitely pulled off. But was I respectable? I was attending the funeral service of the man whose life I'd snuffed out of existence. Even if the ballsack deserved it, I'd killed him. No, murdered him. 

(Oh no, you thought about it.) 

Who the fuck even knew.

± ± ±

"Breakfast on the way," I told Will.

He stood in the kitchen yawning, looking adorable all dressed up in a suit and tie. His suit was black, his shirt cream, and his tie solid, not quite dark brownish grey that shimmered in the natural light from the window that looked out on the courtyard. They were boring colors, a bit, but for some reason the combination was adorable.

Possibly due to something about having feelings for the person wearing the combination, but I wasn't going to examine that too closely if I could help it.

"Aww, look, he thinks the outfit's cute," Anth said from the open doorway to the living room, behind me. 

I jumped at the first sound of her voice, and by the end of her words found myself whirling to face her, blushing furiously to have been caught staring. "I was just--" 

"Admiring the view?" she teased, grinning broadly. "Why not? I think he looks quite handsome in a suit; he was wearing a suit the first time I met him. The navy with the pinstripes, remember?" She looked past me now, to Will. 

Who was blushing probably just as badly, if not worse, than I was. My genes gave me skin that kind of hid blushes a bit; Will was far too fair-skinned to have that advantage. He shifted, then nodded, meeting Anth's gaze. "With the light orange shirt that you said was obnoxious but suited me perfectly. I remember." The quality of his gaze was soft, a small smile playing his lips. 

"Mmm. Yes. And the even more obnoxiously orange tie." She tilted her head to the side, and for some reason I just... wasn't bothered. I wondered when it was that they'd met, wondered if that was how Will had come into contact with me in the first place.

But they were sharing it with me, now, so I couldn't help but smile a little.

"Can't imagine what happened to that tie," she added, in a way that said that she knew exactly what had happened to it, she merely wanted to hear Will tell me what had happened to it.

Will's face was flushed all the way to his ears, but he spoke clearly: "Cut into a couple pieces, I believe, when you failed to gauge how much further a silk knot tightens than... other things." His eyes darted to me, and I felt the heat in my own cheeks. 

Anth's smile made me feel better, and she rubbed one hand from my shoulders down the center of my back to wrap around my waist and pull me into a hug from behind. Easy, given the height deficit on my part. "I can demonstrate, sometime, if you'd like to see. Will quite enjoys being held down." 

He wasn't the only one, but talking about sex casually was just one of those things I'd never done. "Umm. So. Are we going to be on time," don't think about it, don't think about it, "or are we going to be fashionably late?"

"Excellent exit strategy," Anth said, and kissed the back of my neck, making the small hairs stand on end even as I all but melted into the touch. 

I loved it when people showed me affection, even if I was still a little uncomfortable with it. That tangible evidence that someone who I cared about also cared about me was just a good feeling. "So. Off we go?" I caught Will's gaze; he smiled brightly at me and nodded. 

"Off we go," he agreed, and led the way to the door. 

Anth gave us both kisses on the lips for goodbyes, but thankfully she saved the ass-grabbing for Will only.

± ± ±

I'd never been to a Jewish funeral before. You'd think I'd have ended up at one, at some point, given where I lived, but I never did and it was so odd to see a plain wooden casket and no flowers anywhere. Closed casket, too. All of those were things that I hadn't seen before, having been raised Catholic. (I was a recovering Catholic. I'd always be a recovering Catholic.)

The whole thing was also the shortest service I'd ever seen--just a reading of psalms and his sister and _ex-wife_ of all people doing his eulogy. The summary was that they wished they'd known him better.

No you don't, I thought, but held my tongue.

They didn't ask how I knew Ferdinand. That was the oddest part, to me: nobody asked. I don't think that it was that they didn't care, but rather that they were afraid of the answer. Rightfully so. 

I made it just fine through all of that. Will was supportive, like a stone beside me. 

Did they think that Will was one of Ferdinand's victims? Did they think he had come here to see that his abuser was actually dead? At least I didn't see Matthew anywhere; either he hadn't gotten any notification or he couldn't face it. 

I faced it. I followed them out to the graveyard and watched them take turns shoveling the dirt on and at some point I just... it became too much. Something in my head broke to see all of this, to hear Will explaining it to me softly what the cut ribbons meant, and the soil, and everything. 

All of these signs of respect for someone who was anything but worthy of it. All of this respect for a man who was a murder, a molester. A rapist of children. 

And I'd killed him. I'd made all of this happen; it was my fault. I made it to where people showed that fucking shithead respect that he didn't deserve.

"I did it," I whispered to Will, looking down into the hole that they were slowly filling with soil. "I killed him."

Will's arm went around my waist and he pulled me a step away from the hole. "I know that," he murmured, almost under his breath, "but you don't need to talk about it here." 

I almost, _almost_ , laughed. But it came out more of a cough, and a giddy kind of fucked up, free feeling in my throat. "Why not? They should know it. Know that he--he deserved it. _I_ killed him." I spoke almost at a normal volume. 

Eyes wide, Will looked at the other people, who were beginning to take their attention off of the task at hand and onto me instead. 

I went cold. Everything went cold.

Not missing a beat, Will all but dragged me back to the parking lot, back to the car. He shoved me into the passenger side and crawled into the driver's seat and I couldn't do anything but sit there and repeat over and over like a mantra: "I killed him. I _killed_ him." 

If I stopped talking, I'd start screaming. Like the way you just know things sometimes, I knew it with absolute certainty. 

"Anyone who doesn't realize that by now hasn't been paying attention," Reynard said, suddenly in the back seat.

" _Fuck_ ," I shouted, hands fisting, eyes squeezing shut. I tried to turn around and grab at him, but Will lunged after me and Reynard was his usual quick self. To get at him I'd have to hurt Will, and it scared the shit out of me that I actually thought about that for a moment. I actually thought about hurting will just to... do what to Reynard? Hurt him, like me, a mere mortal bound by linear time could do anything to hurt a... whatever it was. "Let me go," I said under my breath.

"No," Will said. "I understand he deserves to be hurt, but don't you think that's what he _wants_ , Elias? Why else would he bother showing his face after he's had his fun?"

It made sense, so much sense. I sagged against Will's arms, turning back around, putting my forehead against the dashboard and screaming _fuck_ this time, as loud as I could.

Reynard wasn't deterred, of course. Why would a semi-omnipoent being by deterred by anything someone like me did? "Not really the venue for that," he replied, smooth as butter.

I had the distinct urge to strangle him. To stave it off, I didn't look at him. Just looked at my legs. The front seat. The floorboard. Said nothing. If I talked I'd scream.

"Now is that any way to treat someone who cleaned up your mess?" Reynard asked, a distinct purr in his voice.

"I'm sorry, you seem to have mistook Elias for someone who gives a shit," Will said.

I thanked God for Will. For him being who he was. For me finally trusting him, a little. For--in a really, horribly fucked up way, for this entire thing, minus the part with Reynard being a smug goddamned bastard. I caught his eye and nodded at him, hoping that he knew it to be thanks. 

"Mmm, always knew this one had teeth," Reynard mused, and suddenly I felt his breath on the back of my neck. "I've only come to tell you: I am finished here. If you need me again... well, you know how to call me." 

No. I'd never do that.

Even if he made me feel alive in a way nobody else did, with that chase, that endless chase. 

I pushed those thoughts out of my mind and just nodded a little. Reynard laughed, a sultry laugh, and leaned up between the seats to kiss my cheek. "You'll never stop being adorable, Elias. Stay angry; it suits you."

And then he was gone. Just fucking gone.

"It doesn't," Will said, softly. "Suit you, I mean. Anger." He started the car, then. "Buckle up."

What else could I do but nod and do what he wanted? After that there was silence. Dead silence between us, save for the sounds of the road. 

Anth was waiting in the parking lot for some reason, when we got home. She pulled me out of the car and into a hug, and I just... I melted, as I had before, falling gratefully into her touch. Whatever words she said, I don't even know, I couldn't tell you what they were. 

Getting into the apartment was a process, but we managed it. Will opened the door. Closed it behind us. It was just Anth now, just her kindness and soft but insistent orders. Walk. Stop. Give me a hug. Stop. Take off your suit.

I hesitated at that, but she kissed me on the cheek. "You can put clothes on after, if you like. I just don't want you doing anything that might ruin it."

Oh. So much logic. How did she get so full of logic?

"I killed him," I told her as I struggled out of the jacket. Will helped. He was already out of his jacket, but his tie caught my eye, swaying with the motion of his body. 

"We know," she whispered. "Do you want to put clothes back on?"

They'd seen it all. It was the one advantage of having the apartment be my office: I could wear nothing but my boxers if I decided I wanted to. I had, before, when sick with the flu and determined to work anyway. It didn't matter. Clothes were too much. I just shook my head.

Anth's hands cupped my shoulders, then slid down my arms to my hands, which she squeezed, smiling. "Okay. Bed? You look ready to pass out." 

I _felt_ ready to pass out. Screaming was tiring.

Somehow Will was already waiting there in bed, and I found myself crawling in, letting him spoon against my back as I faced Anth. She still talked, still that soft but insistent voice. "You're going to need some therapy at some point. It's not--you're not sustainable as you are. But I know of a therapist who'll work. It'll be okay, Elias. You'll be okay. Just rest now. We'll be here." 

Would they? I wondered.

By the time I fell asleep, soothed by soft words and both of them petting me endlessly, I hadn't decided on an answer.

± ± ±

I woke up in stages, like water washing over me, only the water was the world, and with each wave I became aware of more.

Warmth. Light. Pressure of someone's body behind me. In front of me. Arms on top of me. The feeling of someone's hands in my hair. A laugh.

On opening my eyes, Anth leaned down and kissed me. It was a gentle kiss, almost like the type Will had given yesterday, but with a kind of firmness beneath it. Or maybe that was just the hardness of her body against mine, the way she slid her foot carefully between mine. 

"Good morning, by the way," Will said from behind me. Had I really slept through the entire afternoon, evening, and night? _Damn_.

Anth giggled into the kiss, breaking it, and when I turned my head to look at Will I got a hard squeeze from behind and the feeling of a semi-hard cock pressed just above the crack of my ass. I tensed, but Will's hands slid down and he hummed, and Anth pulled me into another kiss, not giving me a chance to ruin this.

God, I was so glad for her. This thing with Will would never work without her. 

Still, my heart beat faster in my chest, and not just for the feeling of two people sandwiching me, both of them rocking their bodies against mine, alternating pressure. It was the idea that even with Anth, I could be hurting Will. 

Anth had dated older people. Anth wasn't so damned innocent.

Though Will wasn't that innocent. He was stronger than I'd realized. Maybe--maybe I'd... but the thought died as Will's teeth sunk into my neck and I shuddered all over, moaning inadvertently.

"Mmm, don't tune out again, please. I like having you here, Elias." 

Oh. I didn't know what to say to that, but Anth saved me, fingers tilting my chin up again as she kissed me. This was the kiss from before, the dominating one that teased and made me forget myself for a while. Made me not think about things.

Will's hands didn't falter, sliding into my briefs and wrapping around my cock, the heat of his mouth hot against the back of my neck as he whispered. "God, Elias, you feel so good." 

Hesitantly I touched Anth, fingers ghosting down her side to the pajama pants that she wore and cupping her ass outside of them, flannel soft under my fingers, her ass the same round one that I'd admired for years. Not so secret admiring, and the way she moved was a wet dream, rolling her hips, groaning into the kiss. 

"She'll let you fuck her, I bet," Will whispered. "She likes that, you know. Likes to--to direct. As you do it. It's, it's always such a challenge, so hard, but I love it, I fucking love it, every time."

I think I could probably listen to Will dirty talk from now until, oh, _forever_ or so. I ground back against him, rolling my own hips, delighting in the way the three of us moved together. He rolled his hips, I let his push mine, Anth ground against me. 

Being stuck--by choice, I guess--between them was fantastic. I let myself revel in it, even as there was a part of my brain that was so afraid, so fucking afraid, that I was tearing everything down by doing this. Things would never be the same. I could hurt them. They could hurt me. 

I decided, right around the time that Anth shimmied out of her pajama pants and tank top, that I could deal with that. Maybe.

Therapy. Anth had mentioned therapy.

But there wasn't any more thinking about that; she pushed me onto my back and crawled on top of me, her wet cunt grinding down against my cock. My briefs were going to end up soaked. I didn't care. It didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was the pleasure on her face when I cupped her little breasts, let my thumbs rub over her nipples through the thin tank top. 

Will stripped off his shirt--he hadn't been wearing any pants--and sat with his knees on either side of my head. His cock-and-balls bulge was surprisingly small, given his height, but I guess that was just the way the cookie crumbled sometimes. Couldn't get genetically lucky everywhere at once.

"Take turns?" he asked Anth, who nodded. Will cupped my face, fingers rubbing my forehead, sliding down to rub my neck, then back up again. He didn't press or anything, but each time his fingers crossed my pulse point my breath caught and it was all I could feel for a moment.

Anth noticed it before long, and giggled, then silently guided Will's fingers to avoid that point. "I want you to pay attention," she said, voice mock-chastizing, and then kissed Will. Dominating. He groaned, and the feeling of his knees and legs shivering around my face was just--I'd never felt anything like it before. Completely surrounded and I loved it. 

"And you," she said, looking down at me, then back at Will. "Condom?" 

Will just nodded, leaning over and pulling the nightstand drawer open. They weren't in the top drawer--I didn't keep my toys there on the off chance of people looking, or some bullshit--but the second drawer was a winner and along with a condom Will pulled out the butt plug I'd had for years.

"Really?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

I might've blushed. Then Anth ground her cunt down against my cock and yeah, I didn't care anymore; it was fine and I was hopefully going to end up with Will's cock in my ass instead.

He toyed with it, looking at Anth. "Should we try it?" 

Anth shook her head. "Next time." 

Will just nodded again and reached for a condom this time, but I got distracted again because Anth took it upon herself to guide my hand down to the folds of her labia. As my fingers brushed her clit, her entire cunt just throbbed, heat making me whimper because God, that was nice, that was fantastic. 

She hung her head a little, rocking in slow motions against my hand as I rubbed her clit with my fingers. It was awkward--I knew it must be, for all the experience that I _didn't_ have--but she liked it even so and began to make needy sounds in her throat. 

Part of me marveled that I could do this, that I could be okay with this, but the rest of me wanted to just sit here and make her make those sounds forever. Sit here and rub her clit and fuck her, if that was what she wanted, though in this position it was more her fucking me... not that I minded.

My briefs were soaked through as she lifted her hips up, pulling the cotton down in one smooth movement. Putting the condom on was less graceful, but I didn't care; the determination on her face was just--

"You're so gorgeous," Will said, his voice low, heated. "Both of you. You're so--I want to do more. Tell me what to do, Anth." 

"Kiss him," she said, and all at once let my cock slide into her. 

I got to hear the hitch of her breath and see that little line between her eyebrows before Will moved around, kneeling at my stomach and leaning down to kiss me. Slow kisses. Tantalizingly slow. 

And Anth so hot. But she didn't move, just sat there, watching Will kiss me. "That's it," she whispered, and Will groaned; I opened my eyes and saw her hand on the back of his neck, fingers digging in. "Make it where he can't decide what to pay attention to." 

She tightened around me and my eyes rolled back, fluttering closed. For a moment I couldn't kiss at all, just gasp for breath, which God was so awkward but they didn't seem to mind the way I jerked under Anth, helpless.

Will found my nipples, too, pinching gently and then harder at the same time that Anth began to move. Her muscles looked so nice, sliding like that, bare skin; I managed, with Will's help, to take off her tank top. 

I gave up on kissing, turning my head to the side and moaning, my hand on Anth's leg squeezing because God I was going to die like this, die happy, caught between them. Their desires. 

Anth rode me, slow, and Will was gentle. Fast, and Will got rougher, digging in his fingernails, biting, looking down at me with such, such mischief and just--I was losing it, really losing myself in this, arching into Anth, meeting her thrusts even as I shuddered happily from Will's touch. He looked so happy, looked so pleased, to do it, and I couldn't do anything back, not now. 

At some point, Will pulled away though, kneeling on the edge of the bed with his hand inside his briefs, rubbing slowly. 

"Fuck me," Anth demanded, rising up into a squat, sweat glistening on her legs, dripping down the firm plane of her belly. I rubbed my hand in it, gripping her thigh again, and did exactly what she wanted. She had to hold on to Will for balance as I pounded into her, and Will turned his attention on her, fingers fiding her dusky nipples. I felt it every time he pinched, felt her tighten up, and how I wasn't already coming I didn't have any fucking clue.

Emotions. I didn't know. It didn't matter. All that mattered was doing what she said. Faster. No, harder, speed doesn't matter.

"Like that," Anth said, gasping in and in and in. 

"That's it," Will said, and I could tell from the tightness in his voice that Anth was close, could tell that this was it.

Her moans went quiet, the same way that Will's had, but when she came--God, I felt it all around me, tight and loose and tight, those fucking fantastic waves through and through and through her, into me--she moaned loud and long, fingernails digging into Will's arm and my side. 

The feeling of it, that tightness and shared pleasure and the look, bliss and pleasure the things that I wanted more of, that I wanted forever, drew an orgasm out of me. It was a surprisingly hard one, making my head go back as I gripped Anth and Will, gasping for breath as my own orgasm washed over me, one big wave instead of lots of them. 

"You're gorgeous," Will said, as he had earlier.

Anth flopped forward onto me, knocking the breath out of me for a moment, and Will carefully maneuvered her onto the bed instead. She only made a pleased noise, pressing herself against me as my cock slid out of her. "Fucking fantastic," she mumbled, kissed my shoulder, and as far as I could tell she fell asleep right then and there.

"Um," I said, suddenly confused. 

Will giggled, he _giggled_ , all giddy. I giggled back at him, and he leaned down to kiss Anth's shoulder. "She'll be back around in a minute. She just--she doesn't really come often, but when she does..." he motioned to her, and giggled again. "It's spectacular."

"But what now?" I asked, carefully reaching down to take off the condom and hopefully not spill any of it.

"You came too, right?"

I nodded, wondering how he could not know, but--I had kind of been loud the whole time, hadn't I? What was one more moan in the face of all that I'd done so far? "Yeah."

"Mmm." He looked down at himself, and his cheeks went red. "You should know, I..." 

But he didn't tell me what I should know. My brows furrowed, and ideas filled my head, wondering exactly what it was that he needed to tell me, what was this thing that was important enough to make him stop like this to tell me. "What?"

Will took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I was born with female genitals. I mean, they can fix stuff like that, you know? It's not like it was at the turn of the century. So I have a cock. But I still... I still have a vagina, so, uh, yeah." 

Oh. _Oh_. It made sense, then, why he'd left his briefs on, why Anth didn't think it was weird. I'd never thought--but Will was Will. I had no idea what he wanted me to say, though, so I went for the truth: "It doesn't matter to me."

Relief washed over Will's features and he straddled my waist, leaning down, wrapping his arms around me. I hugged him back, realizing that he was trembling as I did. He'd been so afraid. Wow. 

"It's okay," I whispered against his neck. 

He nodded, hugging me tighter, still hiding his face against my neck. "I--I know. I just. Um. So-sorry to ruin the mood. I just--I had to tell you."

"It's fine," I said again, louder this time. 

Will pulled away with a smile on his face but tears in his eyes. I reached up, wiping them away, drawing him down so I could kiss his cheeks. 

Once more, I said, "It's fine." 

His smile was so dopey, so _so_ dopey, and I loved it. "I know. It's just hard. But. Thank you."

I just smiled at him, back at that place where I wasn't really sure what to say. I didn't want to say the wrong thing, if there was one, so I just stayed quiet, just looked up at him, feeling more awkward by the moment. 

Even so, he cupped my cheek, thumb rubbing back and forth over my skin. "God, I don't know what I'd do without you, Elias. I love you." 

My heart skipped a few beats. He loved me? That--no, I wasn't going to let it bother me. But I wasn't going to say it back either. I just nodded. "Thank you." 

Beside us, Anth stirred, raising her head and slurring, "You two're gonna give me cavties. Or a case of the awkwards." 

Will laughed. "Yeah, yeah. It's what happens without your influence."

She kissed me, then sat up and kissed Will. Their kiss was a little longer, and Will got a little smile that made me slightly jealous, but Anth looked back down at me, her fingers in my hair. "Do you want the shower first?" 

So practical. Actually, I wanted to cuddle. "Eager to be rid of me?" My voice caught a little on the words; I wished I didn't feel so fucking afraid.

"Conscious of the fact that we just got dirty and sweaty together," she said with a grin, leaning down to kiss me. 

That made sense, I guessed. "Showers and then cuddling?" Will asked, the hopefulness in his voice so cute. 

"Showers and then cuddling," I said, not letting doubt creep into my voice this time.

"Shotgun," Anth said, gave both of us quick pecks on the mouth and raced out of bed for the shower.

Will laughed; I couldn't keep a straight face, either, and didn't want to. It felt good to laugh, even if I knew all of the bullshit that was waiting in the wings. Anth and Will could banish all that crap, at least for a little while. 

"That was fun," I said, once the laughter trailed off and we'd curled up together under the blanket. Damn winter. 

He raised one eyebrow at me--how did people even do that? I never could--and leaned in, lowering his voice. "What makes you think it stops just because Anth's gone?" 

It didn't have to, I'd just assumed... but I guess that was my reward for assuming: making the wrong one. The only thing I could think to say of was _um_ or _oh_ , so I kissed Will instead. Those momentary kisses we'd shared the other day--it felt so long ago now--slow but brief, closed-mouth at first, then deeper, deeper, until our tongues mingled for a few intense moments and the kiss was broken again, and started. Over and over.

Getting lost in the kisses was easy, so easy, and it was even easier to let Will push my onto my back and climb on top of me. He straddled me, as Anth had, but instead of towering over me he leaned down, his chest still pressing against mine as we continued to kiss. 

I found my hands sliding down, gripping his ass, wondering what type of sex he preferred. If--no, but that was not something many people like him did, as far as I knew, so it was maybe offensive to wonder. His cock was hot, hard against mine through the thin, semi-damp cotton of his briefs. 

"What do you want?" I asked, between kisses. As soon as the words were out I was surprised at how breathless they sounded. 

Will hummed, shrugging. "Just this is fine. You saw yesterday--I'm not exactly difficult to get off."

Right. "Just grinding?" 

"Actually," Will leaned up, and he looked so--so happy, looking down at me, cheeks red, eyes filled with life and arousal, "if you're up to a blow job, those are the _best_. Sixty-nine is okay, too, but I'm kind of uncoordinated and, um, it takes longer."

Did he want to make sure he came before Anth got out of the shower? I didn't have the guts to ask, instead answering silently his question by rolling, pushing him onto his back, straddling his hips. It wasn't quite so easy to kiss him as it was when he kissed me, what with him being a whole head taller than I was, but it was easy enough and I stole a few more kisses, making him laugh before I shimmied down to settle between his spread legs. 

His muscles were taut, tense, and I kissed the inside of his leg gently. "Nervous?" I asked, fingers toying with his dark blue cotton briefs.

Will nodded, the movement itself slow, unsure. "A little." He gave an apprihensive laugh.

I didn't dare say something as silly as _don't be_ , because I realized this was the second secret, the second reason Will had never told me anything of his personal life, but I did kiss the inside of his other leg. "Just tell me if I do something that makes you uncomfortable, okay?"

His nod was much more firm this time. Resolute. He smiled and rolled his hips. "Get on with it, then."

Gladly, I thought, leaning forward and burying my face against the front of his briefs. His cock was only semi-hard at first, but it got harder quickly, and Will gasped in a breath. I pulled just the front down, gambling on a guess from half-remembered sexual health classes in school that he'd be uncomfortable with anything that brought attention to the genitals he'd been born with. He didn't have any balls, which was why the bulge had seemed small, but it wasn't. It really, really wasn't.

The second my lips touched his cock, he groaned loudly. I treated him just the same way I'd treat a guy, sucking and licking and jacking him off for a few moments so I could look at him. Despite his profession that he wasn't exactly difficult to get off, underneath the pleasure he still looked just as off-balance as I felt. 

"I love your cock," I told him, and wasn't lying. It was a fucking gorgeous specimen, uncut and velvet-hard, and he tasted fucking amazing. Not that come tasted good, just that he tasted better than I'd suspect of someone who drank as much Mountain Dew as he did. 

Will smiled and his fingers slid into my hair. He seemed to figure out then that I was nervous, too, and guided me to what he wanted. "Suck more," he whispered. "Don't worry about being rough. I'm--I'm a bit of a masochist." 

Something else we had in common, I thought, happy as pie that we had things in common sexually. I let my teeth scrape gently down his shaft as I began sucking again. He rewarded me with a low moan and a little jerk of his hips, but my lack of a gag reflex could accommodate him pretty easily so I didn't choke. 

Will used his hand in my hair to pull my head back, push it down, and finally to hold me still as he thrust into my mouth. I gotta say, that was the best part, when I knew he was so fucking close and he just wanted to use me, just wanted me to be the tool he used to get himself off. 

When he came, it wasn't quiet as it had been before, but it was still pretty silent all things considered. His breath hissed out and he gripped my hair harder and warm, sweet come filled my mouth. As soon as he'd ejaculated, he let out a shaky moan, released my hair, and fell back against the bed. 

He was probably one of the most attractive guys I'd ever fucking seen, and he looked it right then, face flushed, eyes still dark with pleasure though drifting open and shut as his chest heaved while he panted. "God," I whispered, crawling up him, kissing his hip, his stomach, his sternum, his neck. "You're so--I'm so fucking lucky, you know that?" I kissed his cheek and then his lips, gentle, closed-mouth.

Upon attempting to move away, Will's hand came up and he caught the back of my neck, drawing me back down again to pull more kisses out of me. I was _not_ going to argue, no fucking way. 

From the doorway, Anth said, "I knew it," though not like she was unhappy about it. 

This time when I pulled away, Will let me, and he was grinning wildly. I gave him one more peck for the hell of it. "Knew what?" I asked, because there were a lot of things that she could've known about.

"That you two couldn't keep your hands off each other, of course," she murmured, and sat down on the edge of the bed in her towel. I claimed a kiss, then she leaned down to give one to Will as well. It went on a fair bit longer than the one she'd had with me, and they both looked a bit _intent_ once it was broken. God, I really was so goddamned lucky, wasn't I?

"Is there a name for this feeling?" I asked, not sure what to call this thing I felt right now, this happiness all through me, not just for myself but for them as well. 

Anth giggled. "That thing that happens when you watch your lover with someone else? The thing that _isn't_ jealousy?" 

I nodded. "Yep."

"Compersion," she said, simply.

± ± ±

If I thought I was going to get a day off just because it was Sunday, I was dead fucking wrong. Funeral day was my day off. Today, we worked again. Part of me hated Anth for demanding it, but the rest of me knew it was probably a good thing to have focus.

As soon as we'd all showered, cooked our respective breakfasts--no tofu scramble for me this morning, just an omelet made of egg substitute, rosemary, mushrooms, onions, and some other spices--and sat down in front of our respective computers, things just fell into place. Sticking to the routine worked great, even if we'd started a couple hours late, and we moved on to the target that had been our number two before without missing a beat.

Well, there was a minute there where I got another email from Matthew begging to know what he'd done wrong and I felt like the shittiest of the shitweasels. But Anth seemed to pick up on it immediately, and distracted me by asking for my help on a scheduling thing next week; she had a doctor's appointment on a day I was supposed to be at the court house.

The email was gone from my inbox, and not even in the trash folder, by the time I got back to my desk.

Will looked innocent as ever, the little shit, but I couldn't be angry at him for it. I _was_ beginning to wonder if that innocent look hid all manner of deviousness, though. 

We ordered Thai for lunch-slash-dinner and Anth entertained us with a story about two of her parents--she had six, one of those poly families, you know, with a ton of adults and a ton of kids. I couldn't have told anyone what the story was about, afterward, but it felt good to smile a bit, and I could see that Anth was trying and Will was trying but it was just... hard.

Going back to work afterward was a huge relief. No pretending. Just putting everything aside and working with single-minded intensity on putting rumors from vigilante sites together with the law enforcement information that we were privvy to. Some of it could be done with Will's genius programming, but it also took a fair bit of guesswork, which was the part I was good at.

A little after four, my mind started to wander. I started to see Ferdinand's eyes again, fixed and staring, and I needed to stop or I was going to freak out in a really bad way. 

Right on cue Will stood up, stretched, and said, "Time to talk, right, Anth?"

Oh fuck talking. The idea made my blood run cold, but at least if I was freaking out about talking I wasn't freaking out about Ferdinand, right? 

"I think Elias needs a hot shower first," Anth said, simply, and looked squarely at me. 

What the flying fuck? "I just had a shower this morning."

"Hot showers make you feel better," she replied. She didn't cross her arms over her chest or anything, but there was something about her tone that was final, unarguable. 

It was the truth, too, but I had to wonder how she... well, fuck, all those times we shared a hotel room, I guess she had been watching pretty goddamned closely. "I don't _need_ one."

Will snort-laughed, short and soft, and Anth clicked her tongue. "Talking is going to make you upset. Best to enter into it with a calm mind, right?" 

Oh. That made sense. Damn her. "What about you?" 

"We'll be fine," she said, but her voice went soft and she smiled. "It makes both of us feel better when you're relaxed, okay?"

It was that, more than anything else, that made me actually be maybe agree that maybe I should go take a shower. Me being keyed up wasn't good for them so, yeah, it made sense. 

Go shower, Elias, I told myself, and didn't drag my feet in obeying.

± ± ±

I thought about not bothering to put on clothes after the shower, but then I imagined the things that Anth would think if I did that and decided to put on clothes. Yeah, it was only a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, but for some reason it felt better to be dressed, and to know that Anth would be happy that I was dressed.

Her grin when I walked back into the living room was totally worth it, too. I had felt relaxed from the shower, but that little approval made me slip farther into a loose, comfortable place that I probably had no right to be in. 

But that didn't matter. Anth sat in the armchair, her legs curled under her, one elbow on the cushy arm of the chair, her chin on her fist. Will was in the kitchen nuking the rest of his Pad Thai; the microwave beeped just as I sat down on the couch. 

"There's these things called boundaries," Anth began, not in lecturing tones, but more in just... motherly, I guess. "It's when you tell someone that they can't do something, or that what they're doing isn't what you want, essentially." 

My brows furrowed and I looked toward Will, who blew on his bowl of Pad Thai as he walked. No fucking help at all, and me at a loss for words.

"I had to explain this to Will, too, by the way," she said, smile creeping into her tone and onto her lips. 

Okay, that did make me feel a little better. "So you want me to have them?"

Anth nodded. "And to know what ours are. For example: we can't have sex with anyone without clearing it with one another first." 

That seemed like a healthy thing to do. I guessed they'd had a talk about me a _long_ time ago, which made me feel silly. I nodded, not sure what else to do.

"We're also not allowed to be intimate during working hours."

Oh. "It makes sense, no fucking at work." I felt silly as hell, which only got worse when Anth shook her head. 

"Not just fucking. It means things like kisses and hugs as well. Anything that would be inappropriate at a normal office. It's something that helps keep our professional stuff, you know, professional."

That answered why, I guess, and also why she had done what she did today. Why she had done it the way she had done it, too. But there was more and I knew, _knew_ it was going to be awful. 

"We're not saying that there have to be a ton of rules, either," Will said, between bites. He smiled at me too. "But... we do want you to do a couple things if we're going to, you know, have this _work_."

This, the three of us. The thing I'd murdered someone to keep. Right. I nodded, even as I felt the fear twisting and growing in my belly, rising in my throat. I swallowed over and over against it, and after long moments wherein I realized that they were waiting for a verbal response, I cleared my throat and didn't look at either of them. "What kind of things?"

I felt Anth's hand on my arm, and looked up to find her standing there in front of me, half leaning over. She touched my face. "Things you need to do anyway, like getting into therapy." 

"And not calling Reynard anymore," Will muttered. For some reason, his words were too much.

All at once, I felt walled in and lashed out at Anth, shoving her away and just. Going. But as soon as I got up, I realized I had no idea where I was going, not really, and sank back down against the couch again, my heart beating a marathon in my chest. 

My breathing felt about like I'd run a marathon, too. Will's brows knit together and Anth had already disappeared somewhere--not here, which was good, or maybe bad, I couldn't decide. I didn't know anything. 

Therapy. Like it could fix me. Like--

"Here," Anth said, softly, from behind the couch, and she draped a warm wash cloth around my neck. She didn't touch me further, at first, but as I felt the panic begin to leech out of me, she pressed her hand over the washcloth, rubbing tiny circles with her thumb and forefinger. 

"It's okay," Will said, softly, but didn't move any closer. I guess that was smart, with the way I'd felt hemmed in. But. I reached out, finding his hand, and he squeezed my fingers tightly, smiling. 

"So," Anth murmured. "Therapy. And no more Reynard." 

I noticed she didn't say that I couldn't have sex with anyone else; maybe she'd figured out that I wasn't that type. It was just Reynard's bad influence. And poor decision-making, with Matthew.

"Do you think you can agree to those things?" Will asked, his voice remaining soft.

Those were both very good ideas, so I nodded. They both remained quiet, though, and after long moments I licked my lips and said, "Yeah." It sounded loud in the silence that had stretched between us.

Will's happy laugh was louder, though, counterpart to Anth's quiet sigh that was probably relief. "Good," she said, and I felt her move the washcloth and press a kiss against my neck. Her lips felt cold against my damp, overheated skin. "I have a number for someone who's the best for the kind of therapy you need. You're going to sit down and call her now, right?"

I nodded. "Yeah. That's a good idea." 

Anth smiled at me, then leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. Her lips were warm this time. "I think this might actually work, you know." 

Really? I wondered, at the same time feeling my heart skip a few beats as a smile spread over my lips. Therapy and no more Reynard. And some other things, probably, but they weren't going to be bad things. 

Will and Anth knew me, after all, and the little shits _somehow_ loved me anyway. 

I was going to do this, goddamn it, and going to do it _well_.

**Author's Note:**

> I ended up opting not to use the "Major Character Death" tag/warning because I feel like the tag is supposed to be for warning people if a character they love will end up dead. Ferdinand isn't loved by anyone in the story, and isn't meant to be a sympathetic character, so I felt like while it would've been technically correct, it would've generated false expectations. Needs more "Richly Deserved Major Character Death" or "Jackasses and Just Desserts" tags.


End file.
